I and Love and You
by QueenOfQuiet17
Summary: Three of the most common words can so easily become three of the most difficult. Karen/Grace sequel to "Quiet," inspired by the Avett Brothers song of the same name. Now complete.
1. Apologies

_"Three words that became hard to say  
>'I' and 'Love' and 'You'<br>__What you were then, I am today  
>Look at the things I do."<br>~The Avett Brothers, "I and Love and You" _

_Now_

I guess I should start out by saying I'm sorry, especially for not apologizing sooner, among many other things. At the very least, it's what you deserve. But god, you deserve so much more than that. Apologies are all I can give. And they're just words; when it comes down to it, what weight do words have over anything else? Someday I'm going to apologize to you and it won't be just in my mind; someday I'm going to tell you all of this and you'll hear me, and you'll do what you will with my words. But you're not here, and I can't deal with my surroundings. This takes my mind off of everything he's done. This helps.

In a sick way, thinking of every way I've wronged you takes my mind off of all the ways he has wronged me.

As I go through everything about that time, I can't believe all the things I've done wrong. I'm sorry that I didn't say that I loved you the first time you said it to me, because I really did love you; I was just fearful of my feelings. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that Will knew; it probably would have made you breathe a little easier if you were aware of the fact. I'm sorry that I lied to you back then, sneaking around behind your back while we were doing the same to everyone else. I'm sorry that I let you down like that, when I know you were looking to me as the one person who would never do anything to hurt you. I'm sorry that I couldn't give you everything you deserved, everything I wanted to give; when I realized how much you really missed out on while you were with me, I wanted to run to you and make up for it, but by then it was too late.

I'm sorry that I chose him over you. That was stupid, and I know you think so, too. If you didn't when it first happened, you must certainly feel it now. Everyone else does. Deep down, I could tell that you thought I should have stayed with you, even though you kept telling me otherwise (I can still hear your voice ringing, now that everything is crumbling, with those words you said while we danced at my wedding. _If you're happy, that's all that matters_. Look at me now. Do I look happy to you now?). And you know what? You were right. You always are. But you've known me for seven years now, Karen; you should know that I don't always make the wisest decisions.

You've got to admit, it was fine for a while, even if it took time to fully acknowledge it. We were both moving on with our lives, and while our affair was brilliant, it was proving to be a spell we eventually snapped out of. I had Leo, I had the home we made together in Brooklyn. We had our friendship again; we went back to that place with a little more sensitivity towards each other. You fell in love again, you were going to marry Lyle, and while I didn't quite understand, I knew well enough not to question it. I was in love with a man who did some good in the world; I had a sense of pride I never before felt. He would leave with Doctors without Borders to faraway lands, but he would always come back to me in every way.

Until one day, he didn't.

And now, as I look at myself in the mirror, and see him in the reflection, sleeping in the bed I once shared with him, I realize that I now stand where you once stood. Alone, although he's here with me. Betrayed. Thinking that you want to save something that you know is dead. Realizing that it's a waste of energy. Wanting nothing more than to be with someone who understands. I'm the exact same person you were three years ago, when Stan went off to prison, the same person I had already abandoned when you found him with Lorraine's arms wrapped around him. I'm you. You gave in to me when you were in these shoes. And I can't decide which is worse right now: taking this walk in your shoes, or knowing that if I came to you like you did to me, I might not get the same reception I once gave.

Leo says it was just one woman in Cambodia during that trip with Doctors without Borders, but how can I be so sure? He was ready to lie about it in the beginning—he did lie about it to Will at first, saying it was just a kiss—so how can I trust that he's telling me the truth now? He wants to reconcile, he wants me to stay. And the look in his eye tells me that he honestly feels horrible about what he's done. At least I think it tells me this. Looking back on when we first met, I can't be sure of anything. Knowing what I know now, knowing how he got me to try again with him when the only thing I wanted to do was run the other way, I can't help but think that he's manipulated me the entire time. Karen, you know that I was happy with you, in any way I was able to have you. And then he comes along and makes me question everything with just one glance in my direction.

How could I be so foolish?

God, you've been amazing through all of this. Don't think I didn't notice you at the wedding, during the ceremony. I could see you out of the corner of my eye, when I was vowing to devote my love to Leo, and I can't say I wasn't surprised to see you there. But once my shock subsided, I loved the effort. I always knew that you would come through for me, I always knew that you wouldn't be the one to hurt me. I think that's why I trusted you so easily with that first kiss. And after you realized you couldn't stay married to Lyle, after we found out that we both were a little more fragile than we made ourselves out to be, we took comfort in each other. Sure, we might have been a little cautious in our actions—we both know how this went the first time around—but I'd be lying if I said it didn't help.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't bring back every single reason why I fell for you almost three years ago.

Call me predictable, call me mundane, call me whatever you want, but I couldn't help thinking of our time together while Stan was away. And I couldn't help thinking that every memory that came back up was one of pure joy. I haven't felt that in a long time. Being alone with you, in places I never thought you would set foot in, made me feel it again. And I know you felt it too. We became more daring, we wanted to see what we could get away with, so long as we didn't cross the line we once did. We came close—toeing that line like it was a game—when you asked me to dance in Brooklyn bar, when you held me close as the sun set over the sand in Coney Island. I don't think you ever feared that we would cross it, like I did. I could never trust myself to keep from kissing your skin when I was so close to it that I could smell the gardenia radiating from it. You did the trusting for me.

But I wish you weren't so willing to trust me that easily, at least when it comes to making the right choices. You could have talked me out of going with him in the first place. You could have talked me down from my damn wedding. You could have talked me out of the dinner I forced us to hold last night. But you didn't. And look where we are now.

Sometimes I don't understand why everyone goes along with these failed attempts of mine to make things right, when you all know that it will do no good. But there we were tonight, the awkward party at the Chinese restaurant, waiting for it all to implode. I could feel the glances on me as I walked in hand in hand with Leo, hoping that we still looked like the couple we had once been. Jack's was the weakest, Will's had a bit more scrutiny to it. And then there was yours, piercing my skin. You could have said anything against us and it would all have been true, and I wouldn't have fought you. When I looked up, though, I saw your false smile (there was no way that one was genuine), and it made everything worse. You did nothing but sit back and watch us fall to our inevitable destruction.

I can't say I blame you. I probably would have done the same thing, especially after the way I had treated you. But you had been so kind, so forgiving to me after the dust had settled, that I couldn't believe that you wouldn't get up and say something, that you wouldn't tell us that this charade was completely pointless. Maybe that was just your way of being nice. Maybe that was just your way of telling me that I was capable of figuring everything out for myself. But god, you made it so difficult for me to focus on anything but you, and you know why.

You shouldn't have kissed me last night, before you told me that it marked the definitive end of you and me. It was all I could think about, it was all I could do to keep from spilling everything at dinner tonight, from saying that I don't want to try anymore, that all I want is to find your arms. Nothing is ever definitive, at least nothing of that nature. Minds change, hearts change. But I knew what was going through your mind then. I knew you were thinking back to our relationship (screw it, that's what it was, even if we never said it out loud) and how we gave it all only to end up with nothing. I knew you were thinking that the time we spent over the summer was leading us towards the way we were. Spending time in parts of Brooklyn that you knew wouldn't remind me of him, getting me to do things I've never done before (you were always really good at that). And to be honest, I was happy. I was happy that we were finding ourselves back where we started. I just wish that you would have been happy about it too, although I understand your apprehension; it's my fault that it's there to begin with. I wish that you felt the same, because it would make things a lot easier on me now.

I'm not doing so well, Karen.

There have only been two people in my live to whom it was difficult for me to say "I love you." It's an easy gesture, a string of some of the most common words in the English language. I've said it when it's the only thing I've ever been sure of. I've said it when I didn't mean it at all. I've said it to make people smile. I've said it because they wouldn't stop asking for it. I've said it and regretted it. I've said it and had my heart broken. But it was always easy until I came across two people. One of them is you. You know how hard it was for me to finally say it, but it never meant that I didn't feel it. I always felt it. I was just afraid of how powerful those words could be—powerful enough to change everything, perhaps powerful enough for you to leave.

The other person—and it kills me to know that it has come to this—is Leo. And I didn't think it would happen; I wouldn't have made all of us go through the song and dance of dinner, I wouldn't have tried so hard after I found out, if I knew it would be so hard to say in the end. But I'm looking at him now, asleep on his side of the bed, his shut eyes facing me, and I no longer see the man I fell in love with. I no longer see the reasons why I decided to take a chance on him. I no longer see the reasons behind anything I did in the past year and a half. I can't do it. I can't say that I love him—not to his face, not in my mind, not out loud to no one in particular—and I'm not sure that I want to anymore. All I want to do is run, and I want to run now. But there's nowhere for me to go where I can get what I want.

Because the one I want to run to is you. I just can't find the key that opens the door to get there.


	2. Square One Revisited

_Then_

She couldn't take Will's kindness. It was too much of a burden in the end. That wasn't to say she didn't appreciate it at first, watching him walk in through the door after he landed in New York, immediately scooping her up in a hug and telling her that he swore if he saw it coming, he would have warned her. Telling her that no one could have seen that coming. Grace loved the gesture for the first few hours. But then it was all that Will would talk about in her presence. And she knew that he was coming from a good place. It was just that she didn't have time to process everything for herself, and she didn't want others to do it for her. So she packed a bag, told him that she was going to go to her home in Brooklyn for a little while and figure some things out.

But the walls of this apartment were closing in, little by little. She didn't notice it at first; she didn't notice much of anything those first few days, numb as she was. But then she got out of bed one day (why the hell was she still in her marriage bed? It didn't feel right anymore) and each room she walked into felt impossibly small, and she couldn't help but get the sensation that she was becoming trapped. Everything reminded her of him. This was his house to begin with, anyway. Every corner, every piece of fabric, every surface. Yes, her belongings were here, but scattered among the overwhelming presence of the man she married. The man who was supposed to love her unconditionally. The man she shouldn't have trusted.

Maybe it wasn't the walls suffocating her. Maybe it was her thoughts. They were covering the walls, they were thick. They made everything feel so constricting. She wanted it all to stop, if only for a few minutes so she could breathe, so she could clear her head. But being alone in this apartment, this place that she was supposed to call home, meant that Grace couldn't escape these thoughts, even if she tried.

Leo didn't bother to make an appearance in New York before going back over to Cambodia to finish the work he started. Instead he opted to tell her over the phone, after pouring his heart out to Will (god, how embarrassing for Will to know before she did) while they were all in Vegas for Karen's wedding. She was supposed to be there. She could have watched his mouth as he said it. She could have traced the shape of his lips with her mind when he revealed that he had betrayed her like he promised he wouldn't. Actually, that might have been worse. It was one thing to hear the words; it was another to be in the presence of the one who was saying them.

She was glad she made that excuse to skip the ceremony.

Grace chickened out where Karen braced herself and went through with it. She thought she would have plenty of time to deal with the upcoming nuptials, hearing Karen speak of lavish plans to marry Lyle in St. Patrick's with a crowd of people attending. Her own wedding didn't take as long to plan as Karen's dream inevitably would. Then the red head found out about the plans to elope in Las Vegas, under Lyle's wishes, and she knew she had to think fast, making up something about a job she had to do, but maybe she could fly in after everyone else got there. Thinking that maybe, she could muster up some last-minute courage to watch her former lover marry someone else (it didn't matter that they had moved on; wasn't it always difficult to witness something like this?). And in a fit of cowardice, she put in a call to Leo, told him she threw out her back on the job and couldn't move, and to give Karen her best. Because, if she had to be honest with herself, she felt a twinge of unease when she first heard of the engagement.

She couldn't place why, but there was something about Lyle that didn't sit well with her. Maybe it was the fact that he was Lorraine's father, and how on the surface, Karen marrying the father of her ex-husband's mistress seemed too strange to be plausible. Maybe it was the fact that they were rushing into this, only knowing each other for a short while (but at the time, she wouldn't have given it a second thought; just look at her and Leo). But now that she was in this empty apartment, now that she had nothing but time to think about everything, Grace knew exactly why she hated the thought of Karen's wedding.

She never closed the door the whole way on the dark-haired woman.

Will said nothing about Karen's wedding when he got home from Las Vegas. He was too preoccupied with making sure Grace was okay. And at first, she didn't mind it. At first, she didn't want to know about the ceremony, especially when her own marriage was crumbling. She didn't want to know how beautiful Karen looked, or what she said in her vows, or how many people were there. She didn't want to know how the reception was or how much fun everyone had. But it had been two weeks since the ceremony, and he still hadn't given her the details. Not to mention, Karen was missing in action the entire time, probably on her honeymoon with Lyle. She was left to wonder. She was left to backtrack. She was left to remind herself about the clandestine murmurs and caresses she shared with a woman who was married then, and married now. It tore at her heart. It made her long for it again. It made her want to sneak off to Park Avenue. It made her want to put on a Billie Holiday record. It made her want…

No. This is no good. Grace looked at herself in the bedroom mirror, staring her reflection down as if a stern glance would get her thoughts back on track, trying to make everything she needed to hear evident in the image she saw in front of her. _This is your mess, Grace. You were the one to put all of this into motion, and you know it. If you had just avoided Leo like you had originally planned, you would still be with her. She would have left Stan. She wouldn't have cheated. She'd still love you now._ It wasn't as if she didn't know all of this before. Of course she knew. She had to live with it every day, and it hit her twice as hard now that she had isolated herself in Brooklyn. It just never fully hit her until now.

She couldn't stay here. It held too much of Leo. And she couldn't go back to Riverside Drive. It held too much of Karen, and it held too much of Will's speech. But still she raced, out of the front door, out of the building in Brooklyn and nearly ran to the nearest subway stop and didn't truly start to relax until she took her seat on the F train headed into Manhattan, towards Grace Adler Designs. That office was the only place she could think of that was hers, and only hers. Sure, Karen worked there. But it was a place of business; save for the occasional kiss, nothing ever happened, and it was easy to forget about those kisses when they happened in the daylight, without any great fear of being caught. If there was any hope of silence, if there was any hope of sanctuary from these thoughts and these walls closing in on her, it would be found there.

When she got there, she was relieved by the quiet, the way it warmly enveloped her as soon as she walked through the door. Funny how this felt more like a comfortable home now than any place she could rest her head. She looked over at Karen's desk, untouched since the trip to Las Vegas, and wondered where the dark-haired woman was. On the sands of Hawaii as she glances over at her new husband with a smile. In the air flying home, her hand in his as they sit next to each other. In Karen's mansion, curled up in bed. God, she didn't want to think about it.

It wasn't until she saw a flash of skirt at the window that Grace realized she was right here. She watched as Karen climbed in through the window carrying an empty mug the red head could only assume was used as an ashtray. For a moment they locked eyes, and she saw the stunned look on Karen's face, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. She set the mug down on Grace's desk and put up her hands, opening her mouth to speak.

"I swear I lit up when I was out on the fire escape."

She smelled of smoke, but when she passed Grace, the red head could still make out a hint of gardenia, that familiar scent she did not need to revisit just then. They both knew that the one thing Grace asked of her was not to smoke in the office, not where all the fabric samples were; Grace didn't know whether to laugh at the fact that this was the first thing Karen said to her since the wedding, or to be upset at the fact that it wasn't something more profound. Karen continued as she made her way to her desk. "I just needed to be by myself for a little while. I didn't think you'd be here."

"I didn't think I would be here, either. I guess I'm here for the same reasons you are, though. I couldn't stay home." Grace felt a shiver through her spine. The silence that was one warm and inviting grew cold and uncomfortable. "How was your honeymoon?" she asked feebly, hoping to start up some sort of conversation to combat the quiet. The red head realized she could only look at Karen when Karen was looking away. She didn't think to look at Karen's hand, to see the ring on her finger; she knew that she wouldn't want to see it anyway, not under these circumstances, maybe never.

Grace watched Karen's brow furrow from the side view. As much as she didn't want to look her in the eye right now, she wondered why Karen wouldn't look at her. Maybe it was for the same reasons Grace couldn't make that move. "Honeymoon? Honey, what are you talking about?"

"Well, that's where you were, right? You've been gone for two weeks. I thought you said you were going to Hawaii after the ceremony. No one's told me anything since they came back from Vegas; I guess they figured I have my own stuff to deal with. But I just assumed that's where you were."

"Oh." Karen wrung her hands, her fingers twitching like she needed something to occupy herself with. Another cigarette. Grace could tell from all those months studying everything about her that she was craving nicotine to make an uncomfortable situation a little more tolerable. The red head knew that Karen was itching to leave, and she would make the conversation brief. She was just shocked by how brief, and how powerful, Karen would make it. "I went to Hawaii, but not with him."

And then, before Grace could get a word it, the dark-haired woman said it.

"I left him at the reception. I'm not married."


	3. Down On Bowery

_Then_

"Wait…I just don't get it. You seemed so happy before you went off to Vegas. What happened?"

They ended up in a bar on Bowery, purely because of its proximity to the office, and it made Grace want to laugh at the sight of Karen's Chanel inside this bohemian dive. But it wasn't because of the oddity; it was because it had been so long since something like this was able to be witnessed. The red head hadn't set foot inside the Chelsea coffeehouse she used to spend nearly every day in, out of respect for Karen and the past that they have. Part of her wondered if Karen ever went there after they broke up, either to soak up the atmosphere or just out of habit. She wanted to ask, but sitting at a table in the back corner of the bar, she realized that it might not have been the most appropriate question. And she had already asked Karen something; too many questions always led you down the wrong path.

Karen sighed and ran her finger around the rim of her glass, watching the tip slip into her gin and tonic at one point. "I don't know, I guess all the little things about him that I could push to the side came to a head that night. I just wish I would have realized it all before he put the ring on my finger, it's such a hassle now." She took a sip and looked at Grace; she should have known that with the red head, there would have to be a little more explanation, that she would want to know everything. "I loved him, I really did. I'd been with Stanley so long, I almost forgot what it felt like to be in that kind of relationship." _But you were. You were in that kind of relationship. At least that's what you told me while we were in it_, Grace thought. The red head wanted to interrupt her, to tell her that she made a mistake, but she kept her mouth shut. For all she knew, Karen was merely side-stepping the situation so she wouldn't make the situation uncomfortable. "And I was willing to make a few compromises. But then he got used to it, and kept asking for things I didn't really want to give. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"What made you crack?"

"Maybe it was the wrong place for me to finally realize it…okay, it _definitely _was the wrong place for me to finally realize it. But I was at the reception, and I had all of these people coming to me to congratulate me on the marriage. And I looked at every single face, and it hit me: I only knew five of the guests. The only people who were there were Jack, Will, Rosie, Leo…somehow Beverly Leslie made it. But that was it. And it wasn't because people didn't want to be there. When I was planning St. Patrick's, I had everyone who cared saying they would come. But Lyle wanted to elope. And it made me realize that I made so many concessions in my relationship with him, when he didn't really do the same."

"I'm sorry." It was all Grace could think of to say. She didn't want to let the things she was thinking all along hit the air; maybe later, once Karen was truly over yet another failed marriage (even though it only lasted the night), she would tell her that she never thought that Lyle was right for her. Maybe later, those words wouldn't sound like the musings of a wounded ex-lover basking in the vindication of her theories. For now, though, she picked up her glass and put the straw to her lips, occupying them with something other than words.

"It's for the best. It happens in every relationship, making those sacrifices; it's just a matter of how often it happens." And then she said something under her breath that Grace couldn't quite make out, thanks to the music playing, but she swore it sounded like, "Although we were never like that." Whether it was her mind playing tricks on her, or Karen's actual statement, it made her smile into her drink, and she hoped that the dark-haired woman didn't notice. "Anyway, it's nothing worth talking about. But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you holding up?" Grace gave her a puzzled look and Karen couldn't help but laugh. "Gracie, I may have been caught up with my own stuff, but I'm not deaf. I heard Will talking about it at the reception. Leo wouldn't even look at me by the end of it. I think maybe he thought I would rip him apart. If I hadn't have just announced my divorce to everyone, I probably would have."

"You mean you went back on your word?" The red head couldn't help but bring it up; she only hoped that it wouldn't be taken in the wrong way by revisiting this moment. "I seem to recall you saying that Leo should watch out if he ever hurts me."

"Right," Karen said with a smile. The neon signs across the way made it glow in a garish rainbow of light, but it was still beautiful. "And I seem to recall you telling me I didn't have to worry about that."

Grace knew that she didn't mean it in a mean way; even if, by some weird chance, she did, it was Grace's own fault for bringing up their dance at her wedding in the first place. "I didn't think you had to. Hell, I didn't think _I_ had to." She looked at Karen, saw the sympathy in her eyes, or was that inclusion, the sense that she knew exactly what Grace was going through? "I guess this is the part where I pour my heart out. It's only fair, right? Since you started this off to begin with." She stared into her glass with her lips parted, like she wanted to say something but nothing could come out.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

The red head looked at her after she said that and couldn't for the life of her understand why Karen was acting this way. Yes, it was roughly two years since Grace had left her for Leo. Yes, that's plenty of time to get over it all, to move on. But even so, that doesn't erase the memory. If Karen wanted to take a stab at her, she would not only understand, she might even encourage it. After all, she never got it out when their affair was still fresh in the mind. It was only fair. "I'm still kind of numb. It's starting to wear off, but I'm still a little numb. Check back with me in a couple of weeks."

And then she felt it. Karen's hand coming to rest on top of hers. Damn it. It still had that intoxicating warmth to it, even after all this time. Grace wasn't prepared for it. She didn't know what to think. She had never met anyone who could bring back every single memory in one instance. Then again, she had never met anyone like Karen. Before she knew it, she spit out the only defense to this that she could. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked as she tried to pull away from the dark-haired woman's touch.

"Grace, come on. You're not still in that mind set, are you? It's been two years. If I didn't say anything when you got married, I'm certainly not going to say anything now. You should know me better than that by now. I've been where you are before, and I hated it. You don't need me saying 'I told you so,' when technically, I never said anything like that in the first place. Look, we're kind of in the same boat now. I left Lyle, you left Leo. Obviously for different reasons, but the core is still there. I just figured you'd want to go through this with someone who knows what you're talking about, who knows what you're feeling. Will's great, but he's never been through this. He's never been married, he's never had it fail like that before. I've failed," she said, trying to offer a smile. "Tons of times."

Grace settled into Karen's touch and tried to ignore that feeling that got them tangled up in the first place. She found herself inching closer and closer towards Karen's body; she found Karen welcoming it like an old habit. Was it old flames or current woes? Grace couldn't tell. But it clouded her mind just like it always used to. And she didn't fully realize until now just how much she missed that feeling. "You never failed. It was never your fault with them."

Karen laughed and sighed, and whether or not it was Grace's mind playing tricks on her, looked as if she was going to push back a red curl behind Grace's ear and thought better of it. "I've only told you part of it. There were things I left out, things I've done that I'm not proud of. Things that no one else really need to know about me, that give you a false sense of who I am."

"But it's not like I just met you…why wouldn't you tell me any of this somewhere down the line?"

"Because back when I was telling you the rest of it, I was also trying to make you think it wasn't such a big mistake sleeping with me. It's not really a great selling point if I tell you everything I've done wrong in my life."

The bluntness of Karen's comment took the red head aback for a moment. They had never come out so directly about what they had done with each other, even after the fact, when there was nothing to lose because they already lost it. She was intrigued by it. She liked it, the feeling of no reservations holding her back. Even when she kissed Karen all those years back, she still had doubts. But they had already been through the worst of it, and they're still here. What was there to worry about? "I still would have slept with you," Grace said with a smirk. "You just would have seemed a little more human to me the first time around."

It couldn't have been the booze; they were only on their first drink, and Grace hadn't finished hers yet. Not to mention that Karen was the only person she knew who could hold her liquor like that. The red head rested her locks on Karen's shoulder, wanting a solid place to lay her dizzying head. She looked down at Karen's lap, saw their fingers entwined and resting on the dark-haired woman's skirt, the words of the song she recognized but couldn't identify swirling around them as it blared throughout the bar. Karen took Grace's hand and kissed it quickly in a show of support. But it was charged. Something in those lips had been charged with a spark. Grace looked up, locked eyes with Karen, and knew that Karen felt it too. She started to lean in, she saw Karen do the same, lingering there for a moment. She saw Karen's lips start to part and she closed her eyes, not anticipating what she was about to hear.

"I'm starting to think…that maybe, I shouldn't be here." She opened her eyes to find Karen fishing around in her purse for her cell phone, using it to check the time. "It's getting late. Will's probably wondering where you went off to." Grace didn't have the heart to tell her that she hadn't stayed at Will's for almost a week. She didn't have the courage to say much of anything now. "Are you okay to get home?" But before the red head could answer, she stood up and made her way out.

And as Grace watched Karen walk out into that special Manhattan darkness that never truly hides anything, she had the nagging feeling that, despite the resistance, they were getting sucked into it all over again.


	4. Across The Bridge

_Then_

Lyle had taken the last of his things out of the house overnight, left the key on the dining room table and locked the door behind him. All of this change, and Karen didn't notice until she saw that flash of silver metal out of the corner of her eye after she woke up in the morning. She was never a light sleeper, and Lyle knew that; must have been why he took advantage of the opportunity. It was a smart move, she had to admit. She certainly didn't want to face the awkwardness of that situation. Chances were that he didn't want to, either.

Still, she hated the finality of the silence in this place.

Karen had to get out, go somewhere, anywhere. Someplace where she could hear the sounds of life around her but didn't have to contribute. Someplace where she wouldn't necessarily be recognized. She just wasn't sure where that was yet. She made her way back upstairs to change clothes, walked into her closet and switched on the light, illuminating a space that could have served as a small apartment in itself. Say what you wanted about Stanley Walker, but at least he knew how to take care of her financially. Not that it did any good in the long run. Karen blindly rifled through a series of blouses she had honestly forgotten about until now when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a box in one of the back corners.

God. It had been almost two years since she even thought to touch that box. After Grace told her about Leo, she had taken all the things she used to wear around her—things that were the exact opposite of what cluttered the racks and the drawers in this room—and folded them into their cardboard prison, and she didn't think they would ever see the light of day again; especially not since she met Lyle. And yet here she was, down on her knees, ripping the packing tape from the top and opening up the flaps, revealing things from her past that she didn't realize she missed so much. Digging softly through the box, she came across a pair of jeans that were starting to fray at the bottom, a soft grey t-shirt that she only remembered as a small pile on the floor of Grace's bedroom—a discard as they made love. She clutched these to her chest as she stood up, and changed into the clothes that brought back more memories than they probably should have.

And then she rushed out the door, heading for the subway, fully aware of where she was going, but unwilling to recognize the magnet that was pulling her there.

* * *

><p>From what she had seen of it, she hated Brooklyn with a passion.<p>

It wasn't as though the borough hadn't been kind to her. She had found a few spots that she was willing to spend her time in, and there were a few people here that had been nice enough. But all of these things, all of these connections, were his. All she knew was in Manhattan. Her friends, her business, her memories. Her life. When she moved here, she immediately felt a disconnect, she felt as though she was missing out on everything going on across the bridge. Because when she moved here, she became fully immersed in the life of her husband.

And now, all that she can see, wherever she goes in Brooklyn, is Leo.

Grace didn't know how much longer she could stay in this apartment. Maybe Will would back off. Maybe she wouldn't feel so suffocated if she moved back. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Because if the walls were closing in on her inside her own home (god, that sounded so unnatural. This wasn't her home, this was never her home. This was Leo's home, with some of her belongings scattered around; it was one step above having your own drawer at your boyfriend's place), the Brooklyn air made it harder and harder to breathe. She missed Manhattan. She missed Riverside Drive. She missed late-night diner runs when she couldn't sleep and Will's attempts to culture her mind. She missed the fact that it only took a short journey across the park to get to Karen. But Grace was beginning to suspect that she missed that last aspect for other reasons.

If she left now—she didn't even need to pack a bag right away, she left some of her things in Manhattan—she could get to Will's before he got home from work. It was Saturday, but she remembered him saying something about logging in some overtime for a major client. There was no way to make a big scene of arrival with no one in the apartment. Of course she had the key, she always had it; he wasn't going to make her give it up as soon as she decided to go back to Brooklyn. Grace took a quick look around the apartment for anything she absolutely had to take (there was nothing of importance and she knew it, but to make the scene look a little more legitimate…) before she grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

She passed neighbors she couldn't put names to, offering her hand in a small wave and a tight-lipped smile. There was no way they could have known about what was going on. Leo hasn't been in New York in months, and as far as she knew, any connections he had in this building didn't go beyond casual acquaintances. Still, the red head couldn't help but feel as though their eyes were looking right through her, that they could guess, that they felt an immense pity for her that she didn't need or particularly want. All the more reason to get the hell out of there. The sun blinded her for a moment as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, but she didn't need to see where she was going to get to the subway. But as the rays hid behind a cloud, she was able to see the batch of people coming up from underground, and as her eyes caught on one person in particular, and she thought they were playing tricks on her.

Because not only would she not be caught dead in those clothes anymore, but Karen Walker does not go into Brooklyn unless she absolutely has to.

Against her better judgment, Grace turned around from the subway stopped and followed behind Karen, her quest to get across the river suddenly not so important anymore. She was completely transfixed by the vision in front of her. It had been a few days since their visit to the bar on Bowery, since Grace had seen her, and she wasn't sure how to handle the concept of talking to her. But god, what Karen was wearing. It took her back to things she tried her damndest to forget about. And yet, here they came, rushing to her, almost knocking her over with their force. She hadn't even realized she followed Karen into a small bookstore on the corner of a street she'd never been on before. In an instant, the Park Avenue princess had become one of the people she'd easily find in the Chelsea coffeehouse, weaving through the shelves until she stopped in the poetry section, letting her fingers run along the line of books that faced her at eye level. Grace watched as Karen slid one out of the lineup and started to study the cover. The red head walked up slowly so as not to frighten her.

"Sylvia Plath. Somehow, I should have known you would have been drawn into the darker turns of language."

Karen jumped at the sound of Grace's voice and locked eyes with her before she gave a small smile. "Sorry if I disappointed you, but light and airy doesn't usually cut it for me." She turned the book around in her hands as she kept speaking. "It's just one of those days. All of the usual haunts bored me, and I didn't feel like running into anyone I knew…present company excluded. Brooklyn's pretty nice, if you know where to go. It's a shame I haven't been around too often."

"You're not missing much," Grace mumbled. If Karen heard, she didn't respond. The red head studied the woman in front of her glancing through the pages of the book in her hands, and couldn't take the silence. It was too thick, too suffocating, like the walls of Leo's apartment. Like the air in Brooklyn. Like everything she couldn't run away from and wanted to, desperately. And before she knew it, before she could form it in a way that sounded acceptable, she let it slip. "Why haven't we talked about the other night? Or talked at all?" She could hear her voice starting to strain, maybe grow a little louder, but it didn't deter her. "Look, I know that I shouldn't have…"

"Honey." Karen took the red head by the wrist to get her to stop. "Don't be so hysterical over it. It's a waste of breath. There's no use harping on what almost happened, or what did happen. Move on from it. There's really nothing else to do about it." She slid her hand off of Grace's wrist and brushed it along her shoulder, smiling into her eyes as she did so. "If that's what kept you away from me the last few days, it shouldn't have. Because I really think we can help each other out here, with what we're going through. I could use a friend. Couldn't you?"

_Friend_. The red head just couldn't swallow that word, not when it came from Karen's lips, and not when it was in reference to her. After two years, it should have been fine. It should have been a fleeting moment. It should have elicited a quick and automatic response, because yes, they were friends. Or at least that's what they were pretending to be. But to hear it vocalized, to not be able to avoid the label, was something that Grace couldn't handle. But if this was the way to spend time with Karen, she would suck it up, if only to be around her. "Yeah," she said finally, making sure not to say the F-word—it would have been worse hearing it in her voice, she knew that for a fact. "That sounds pretty good right now."

Karen started making her way to the cash register when she looked back at the red head. "I was thinking of grabbing some coffee after this, if you want to come along. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?"

Denial. That's what it was. Denial of the facts that had been laid out before them a few nights ago. Maybe it was for the best. But she doubted it. Who would it harm if they tried again? Deep down, Grace knew that nothing would come from this, at least nothing she truly wanted (and did she even truly want it?). Still, she couldn't move. Grace thought of her plan, escaping to Manhattan, to Will's apartment without being noticed. But the look in Karen's eyes—or maybe it was simply the look _of_ her eyes—made her want to stay.

"No," she said before Karen turned her attention to the cashier. "I can't imagine being anywhere else."


	5. The Cycle Goes On

_"Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in.  
>Are you aware the state I'm in?<br>My hands, they shake, my head, it spins.  
>Oh, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in."<br>~The Avett Brothers, "I and Love and You" _

_Now_

I wonder about this all the time, and it won't let my mind alone tonight. Maybe it's because I'm back at the start, I made it full circle, even though it was the last thing I should have done. And he's asleep, so I'm left alone to deal with my thoughts (I'd be left alone with them anyway, because there is no way I'd start pouring my heart out to him now). But here's the thing: I don't doubt that we would have gotten back on track after the incident on Bowery. I don't doubt that you would have eventually broken the silence so I wouldn't have to, but when you did, you wouldn't mention that near-kiss; you would simply by-pass it and bring up something trivial just to get me talking. I don't doubt that you would have made the whole divorce experience less horrible.

I just wish I could have asked: if I had never found you in Brooklyn that day, dressed like you had just walked out of my memory like it was no big deal, would we have made that land our second home?

We would go anywhere and everywhere in the borough, as long as it took our minds off the situations at hand. And our minds were tired from the spin. We looked to these places as though we were weak, breathless, and seeking out sanctuary. And while I had my guesses, I never fully understood why we would rush to catch the subway every time we wanted an escape. It would have been easier if we picked up where we left off last time—not in our relationship, but in the places we would go, the ways we would kill time. We could have gone to Chelsea; those baristas have surely forgotten about us by now—hell, they may not even work there anymore, they may have been replaced by a crop of fresh faces waiting to overcharge you for your latte. We could have walked Riverside Park. We could have done all those things.

But all of those things have a past. All of those things have a history. All of those things have our kisses and our sighs, our whispers and our caresses. All of those things have that memory living within them, and we both know that those memories would be in the air as soon as we got there. So maybe that's why you decided to let Brooklyn be the place where we could rest (it was all you, by the way. I was merely following you the first time, and I didn't want to break the tradition we had set down). Maybe you thought that if we revisited our old Manhattan haunts, we couldn't escape what we once had. Maybe you thought that if we were somewhere else, there would be a smaller chance of us rekindling any fire that used to keep us warm. Maybe you thought that Brooklyn was safe, even though my own history with the place is less than desirable.

My personal opinion? Sure, it was nice that the borough took us in, sheltered us from an emotional storm that we probably couldn't weather alone. And it was nice that I grew steadier in my step, more willing in my smile. But we knew nobody in Brooklyn. Nobody cared that we were there. It was so much easier to start things up again in a place where you're nameless, just another stranger walking into a bar, or pacing the boardwalk in Coney Island. It was so much easier to get caught up in what once was if no one was there to stop us.

And maybe that's why I got my hopes up.

I could see you loosening up as time went by. I could see those smiles lose their apprehension. I could feel you moving closer to me, inch by inch. I could hear it in the way you spoke that you thought you were safe. And you were with me…there was no reason for you to think otherwise. Let's face it: I'm the one that put a stop to it in the first place, for my own selfish reasons. So it wouldn't make sense for me to start it up again if I was the one that broke it off. That almost kiss, that moment on Bowery, that was just a fluke. Or at least it should have been. But I knew what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Call me a deceiver because I let you believe otherwise, because I never mentioned what I almost did on Bowery and acted like it never happened, at least in the beginning. Call me whatever you want because truthfully, you have every right. As long as you say it to my face, and I can hear your voice calling me these things, I'll be okay. I know I've been in the wrong for two years now. I know I got what was coming to me. It's justice somehow, for what I did to you. I just wish you would say something about it, because I know what you must be thinking. Say something to me, Karen. Tell me how I failed. Just talk to me.

He told me that it doesn't matter what you think, what Will and Jack or anybody else thinks. He told me that the only opinions that matter are his and mine. He said it with a smile on his face like he really thought we could jump over this hurdle. But it's easy for him to think that. It's easy for him to feel horrible about what he's done, it's easy for him to promise that it won't happen again. I still have to live with that uncertainty. I have to watch him to be sure that he won't stray. I have to pretend like I trust him when I'm not sure I do. And even if the opinions of others are irrelevant to him, yours matters so much to me. I think you know that. At least, I hope you do.

With all of this, I don't know what to think. So even when my opinion matters the most, I fail.

I couldn't help but look at you all throughout dinner tonight, that gathering of mixed intentions. And I couldn't tell if you wanted me to succeed in this, or let it all fall. You were completely stoic, and I don't know why I'm so surprised. You've always been like stone, at least to everyone on the outside. But I thought I had gotten to you back then. And I had hoped that I was still in your heart somewhere, because it certainly felt like I was all summer. You had turned back into that soft and loving woman I always knew was there, that woman that only I knew about. So when I saw you sitting across from me tonight, not giving any of your emotions away, it took me aback and I hope no one noticed. Christ, Will spoke up before you did, out of solidarity, out of protection. And while I knew he wouldn't spend the whole evening silent, I honestly could have cared less what he had to say, because I heard it all before. He has a general speech prepared for the men who have done me wrong; he just revises it with a few details related to whoever he's speaking to. But you sat there like I had never been in the depths of your heart.

Maybe it was just because you were lonely that I felt those things from you, and it would make sense. That's how we started in the beginning anyway, wasn't it? Stan was in prison. Nathan had left me because I make things too complicated. It was pretty damn convenient, even if you don't want to admit it. But I didn't go to you because it was convenient, and I didn't go to you because it was easy. I went to you because I felt something in your touch that I couldn't feel with anyone else. And if any part of me thought that it was going to be easy, it was stupid. You're Karen Walker. You're difficult by nature, at least to someone on the outside trying to look in. But as long as I could keep that feeling, I didn't care what I had to go through. I still don't.

I shouldn't be willing to go through this cycle again, especially considering the way it put us through the ringer the first time. But I am. Maybe I'm a masochist. Regardless, I just need you to take my hand.

Out of impulse, I open up the closet door slowly so as not to wake Leo, and grab the pair of shoes I wore last night when I was with you. I feel like I need to go somewhere, but there's nowhere that will have me (and even though I know that's not true, I still can't shake this sensation). I sit on the couch in the living room, slip my bare foot into one of the shoes I brought out with me. There's still sand from Coney Island inside; I can feel the grit against the bottom of my toes. I was a fool to chase after you in the sand in heels, but damn the way you looked at me when I told you I was trying again with Leo. It was the same look you thought I didn't process when I saw you at my wedding, just after he slid his ring onto my finger. And it pierced through me just as roughly as it did the first time.

It's when I realized that we were playing out the same thing we had when Leo made his first appearance in my life. I told you about him, what I was planning to do. You were crushed even though we never talked about why you should be. I felt like I had lost you even though experience was telling me that this wasn't true. We both knew we would live tomorrow like this night hadn't taken place. We were always suckers for the battle.

Why are we so obsessed with the cycle, Karen? Why didn't you take the chance to break it? You never fought for me, for us. You just stood by and let it happen. You didn't fight it when I told you that I had met him. You retreated, and let me find my way to Brooklyn, to a home that doesn't feel right and a marriage that never fit on me the way I thought it would. And you retreated last night, leaving the ghost of your lips on mine as you scrambled to the nearest subway. Why didn't you tell me how foolish I was for believing that I could move on from his adultery with my marriage still intact?

You didn't fight for me then, and you're not fighting for me now. It shouldn't hurt this much to know that you can walk away so easily. Then again, I didn't realize before now just how much I wanted that battle.

I have to get out of here. I don't bother to get the sand out of my shoes before I slip the other on; after some time walking around, I'll get used to it. Quiet so as not to stir Leo, I slip out the door and hope that he doesn't realize I'm gone. He's always been a heavy sleeper, but I can't understand how he can doze off so soundly during a time like this. There's a chill in the air, better than the suffocating things I felt inside. I keep telling myself I don't know where I'm going, and that it shouldn't matter anyway, but I find myself heading towards the subway anyway. Knowing that as the hours pass, it grows more dangerous. Not particularly caring what happens. As long as I can get somewhere that brings me back to a time before you threw me that look that shattered me. And in the least serendipitous fashion imaginable, I board the one car on the F train that no one else inhabits. It's a sign I did not need, a sign that only highlights the obvious in a brightly annoying neon way.

I'm fending for myself now.

Brooklyn is different now that you've crossed the bridge. I turn the corner and I see you. I walk down the street and you're there, in the shops, your back against the brick wall of a building on the corner, a cigarette between your crimson lips. I step onto the sands of Coney Island and I see you at the shoreline with a half smile that's sly as hell and your hand extended to reach me (maybe that's why I feel a magnetic pull towards the beach now). I can't get you out of my mind here.

Brooklyn is only a safe haven when you're here.

And you're not here. So I'm not safe.


	6. Don't Look Back

_Then_

Early in the morning, awake at a time she hadn't seen in ages. It had to be, because her body was still wrapped in that silk nightie, her bare feet padding along the wooden floorboards of the hallway. She was in a place she recognized, but she had no idea how she got there, why she had her own clothes to change into (because who in their right mind would walk around New York in sleepwear?). But it didn't seem to matter. She felt too light to care about how she got here. She knew this place like the back of her hand. She closed her eyes and took in the creaks in the floor as the fanfare welcoming her back to where she belonged.

When she turned the corner, in the heavily shadowed apartment, she found a figure in the dark with its back turned towards her. But she didn't need to see this person's face. She knew exactly who it was. There was no mistaking it. The person had to match the apartment. And even in the shadows, the outline of the figure, standing by the dining room table, was something that she knew all too well. She had navigated it so many times before this moment, and as she stood there, she knew that there would be many more opportunities to go down the same paths. This is how it should have always been. And now, she finally gets to live it.

"Hey, you," she said with a smile. It was a phrase she never tried on before; her voice was never suited for something like that, it never felt genuine. But in that moment, it was the most natural thing she had ever heard in her life. It felt right. And lately, she had been hard pressed to find anything that felt like that. She just wished the shadows didn't obscure the one she was calling for. She watched as the figure turned in profile at the sound of her voice before standing up, walking to the terrace door and opening it, being washed out by a sudden flood of light that was almost surreal. When the door closed, the figure was gone.

She made her way along the hardwood floors, climbed the step that led her to the terrace. But before she could get to the door, she was jerked back into reality by a crash.

Karen startled out of her daydream and looked at the dejected cell phone in the middle of the office floor, the victim of an unusual fit of bad temper from Grace. She rubbed her hands along her face in an attempt to snap herself out of the world she was in and got up from her seat, walked to the space between the desks and picked up Grace's phone. When she straightened herself, she saw Grace in the back of the swatch room with her arms crossed over her chest. "What the hell happened?" she asked.

Grace merely shook her head in Karen's direction, kept her lips tight. But one guess, and the dark haired woman was certain that she could figure it out. Just to be sure, she looked down at the discarded cell phone, saw the text message that was still on the screen.

_Will you please give me a chance to explain myself?_

Leo. She knew it. And she couldn't blame the red head for her reaction. If it was Stan, and their marriage had been one that she trusted, there's no telling what she would have been capable of doing. And to ask for favors after doing the unthinkable…how Leo thought that Grace would be willing to talk to him civilly was beyond her. She looked at the red head, still frozen in the swatch room with her arms around her body, and she couldn't remember a time when her gaze was that cold. And trying to reconcile that look with the one she gave Leo at the altar was an even harder task.

Karen thought back to the ceremony—god, even though it was nearly two years ago, the memory still pierced through her like the sharpest knife, and the wound still stung long after the damage was done. But despite whatever heartache she was dealing with that day, she could see how genuinely in love Grace was with the guy. There's no doubt that what Leo did was a horrible betrayal of trust. But Karen had never been the kind of woman—no matter what she showed the outside world—to be able to turn love on and off, like a light switch. It took time to get rid of those feelings. And yet, here was Grace, with her hand on the switch and the lights off.

It was dark in the room, the night Grace told Karen about him. She wouldn't be surprised if she gave the red head the same look she was seeing now. She just hoped that Grace didn't see it. Because she knew that if it was visible, there was no coming back from it.

Karen tossed the cell phone onto Grace's desk, hearing the thud it made as it landed on an open sketchbook. She walked into the swatch room and opened the red head's crossed arms before taking her hand. "You're coming with me," she said softly, but with enough force to let Grace know that she wasn't kidding around. The red head was silent as she followed Karen out the door. She wasn't about to protest. It didn't matter that she had meetings today, that a client was supposed to be here in half an hour. She wouldn't have been able to give them her full concentration, anyway. She simply held onto Karen's gentle hand as she was led to the downtown F train, no questions asked.

They found a space to sit on the train as the car jostled them in a way that was so consistent, that you almost didn't notice. They stayed silent, and Karen couldn't tell if it was because they didn't know what to say to each other at the moment, or if they were just too tired to speak. She looked outside the window, gazing at the view of the city as the train emerged from underground to the elevated platforms of Brooklyn, and for a moment got lost in the scenery.

And if it weren't for the sudden sensation of Grace's head coming to rest on her shoulder, Karen would have completely forgotten about the impromptu field trip she forced the red head to embark upon. There was a trust in the gesture that she wasn't sure she deserved, but welcomed like a long lost love. Because in all honesty, isn't that what it all came down to? Even if they didn't say it out loud, what did it matter? They went all that time before without saying a word, just to show that the truth didn't need to be put into sentences. She had told the red head before that she could use a friend. And it was the truth. But deep down, those old feelings were coming back. And it didn't help that in between stops, Grace had whispered the most enigmatic statement she could have possibly come up with. "I shouldn't have left."

She shifted her eyes towards the woman beside her and held her breath, bit her lower lip. She knew that Grace probably meant that she shouldn't have left the office. But she couldn't help wondering if it was a more overarching statement, something that went back to the night she told Karen about Leo, something that tasted of regret. Karen closed her eyes and kept quiet as the red head's words played over and over in her mind like a skipping record, until they hit the end of the line.

The smell of salt water greeted them as they stepped outside of the subway station. Coney Island wasn't a place that either of them went to often—or at all—but Karen knew it would take something out of the ordinary to get the Grace she knew back. And while its reputation became questionable as night fell over the city, there was a certain charm about the daylight commotion of this place. Karen fixed her eyes on the Wonder Wheel and could feel Grace doing the same, staring at the ferris wheel that couldn't help but be a major focus during the summer. _Start out gently_, she thought as they maneuvered past the crowds, _and go from there_.

Karen felt a pull at her hand and turned to find Grace standing still. "I don't like heights," the red head said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the sea of people enjoying the sunny afternoon. The dark haired woman pulled Grace into her, the heat of her body multiplying the heat of the sun. At another time, it would have been romantic. Now, it was merely a reassuring movement out of friendship (she couldn't figure out if that was better or worse).

"I'm not here to hurt you." And as quickly as she voiced her reservations, Grace nodded her head and willingly followed Karen to the ride.

Settled in the car, Karen kept her eyes straight ahead. As the ride started up, it quickly became clear that they were in a swinging car, instead of one of the stationary ones that she knew would quell the red head's anxiety. She felt a tight grip take a hold of her hand, Grace's knuckles ghost white when she looked down at the tangle of their fingers. She didn't know what to say to make it better; she knew she had failed. But as the ferris wheel came to a stop at the very top, the words spilled out whether she wanted them to or not.

"Don't look down, and don't look back," she said, not realizing at first how that advice could so easily fit the shape of their situation. With Grace's hand still tightly wrapped around hers, Karen pointed with her free hand to the side of the car. "Just look out there," she said, looking at the beach, the ocean. It was absolutely breathtaking. "How often do you get to see a view like that in Manhattan?"

Grace gave a smile to the view she had just been handed, but her mind was impossible to tame, and it wandered, leaving her gaze blank, although Karen hadn't noticed. The dark haired woman's words rang through her head. _Don't look down, and don't look back_. If they had just followed those rules the first time, maybe it would be different today. But now that she has a second chance, she wanted to get it right. Not looking down, that was easy. She didn't care to know how far down she would have to fall. But not looking back, that proved nearly impossible. How could she not? They were falling back into the same patterns, whether or not Karen could see it. Different situations, a different year, but it's all the same. It was a déjà vu she didn't mind experiencing, but it was also one she knew would break her heart. She felt a ball of tears lodged in her throat, and knew that she had to distract herself from it.

"You're sweet for bringing me down here," she said, hoping her voice wasn't too shaky. Karen responded with a soft smile, revealing how much of a porcelain beauty the woman really was. And that was when she fully realized, with a hint of disappointment in herself, that she could only follow half of what she wanted to. Not looking down was a piece of cake. But not looking back, not thinking of the past…well, Jesus.

It was a rule she couldn't help but break.


	7. The Need To Lie

_Then_

"Where the hell have you been?"

She hadn't bothered to go back to the office, but rather watched as Karen got off at the Broadway-Lafayette stop that led to Grace Adler Designs before riding the train to Fourteenth Street to hop on the red line. When she walked in, Grace found Will home from work, on the couch with a book in hand. She didn't lift her gaze to meet his, but she knew it was on her. And it wasn't until he opened his mouth that she took a look at him. She couldn't figure out if it was her mind playing tricks on her, or if it was really the tone of his voice, but she could swear he was accusing her of something. Either way, she was on defense, ready to block whatever was coming her way.

Leaning against the fireplace, she slipped off her shoes and carried them in her hand. "What does it matter?" she asked calmly. "I'm home now, Dad." She flashed Will a smirk as she walked over to the couch and sat next to him, resting her shoes underneath the coffee table.

"Grace, I stopped by your office to see if you wanted to grab some lunch, and not only was the door locked, but there was someone standing outside that I can only assume is a client you just lost. You were nowhere to be found. What happened?"

"I had some things to take care of in Brooklyn." Cryptic, but enough to lead him in the wrong direction. Because she wasn't sure how to process what happened on Coney Island today.

"_See? You survived. I told you I wasn't going to hurt you." She said it with a wry smile as they stepped out of their car on the Wonder Wheel. Grace couldn't help but laugh at her comment; at the very least, it was suppressing the comment that children shout when they've found something they love. _Let's go again! _But this time, she wanted to take in the view of Coney Island that was obscured by thoughts of dark hair falling against alabaster skin._

"_Fine, fine. I should know by now to trust you," the red head said as they moved through the crowd. "Come on. I want to see everything. I've never really spent any time in Coney Island." What else could Karen do but grant her wish? This was the happiest she had seen Grace in a long time, and she didn't want to risk losing this side of her. So they made sure they hit every ride at least once (Grace couldn't help but drag Karen onto the Wonder Wheel one more time). They stopped by the sideshow (Karen couldn't help but crack a smile every time Grace squirmed). They sought solace in the New York Aquarium. And as the sun started to set, they made one last stop._

"You went by Leo's apartment, didn't you? I know you still have the key."

Suddenly, Will's voice became sympathetic. God, she hated when he sounded like that. She hated when anyone sounded like that. Like they pitied her because she couldn't figure out how to make a marriage work. It wasn't as though she was alone in this—so many others are in the same position as she is now—but as soon as she heard that tone of voice, she knew that whoever was speaking was thinking of her like she was. "What? No," she started to protest, but Will placed his hand on hers, and she knew she would be losing this battle.

"You don't have to lie about it, you know. I get it. That was the home you built together, there are memories there. It's totally natural to want to take all of that in before it's gone." Right, Will. Talk like you've been through this before. Sure, you and Michael had been together for seven years before he walked out of your life. But he never cheated. He never broke his promise to you. Whatever you had with him had simply faded, and yes it's sad. But you will never feel that sting when he tells you he slept with someone else.

"Will, I don't need the stock speech about how it can only get better from here, and how I'll get over it, it just takes time, any of it. You're wasting your breath. I wasn't at Leo's today."

"Then where were you?"

_They walked through the sand barefoot, their shoes in one hand while a hot dog from Nathan's Famous filled the other. Once she realized they were in a remote enough spot close to the ocean, Karen sat down in the sand and looked up at a hesitant Grace. "Come on, honey," she said as she took her hand to pull her down to her level. "Don't be afraid to get a little dirty." The red head took her place next to Karen, and as she dropped her shoes next to her, she couldn't help but look at the dark haired woman next to her. It took Karen a moment to realize she was being watched. "What?" she asked lightly as she locked eyes with Grace._

_The red head smiled and quickly shifted her gaze to the sand. "I'm just surprised, that's all," she said as her fingers fumbled with the napkin in her hand. "I thought I had seen every side of you. But I'm impressed; Coney Island agrees with you."_

"_Well, I'm glad I can fake my way through a crowded summer day on the beach," Karen laughed. "I've never been here when it's so full of life. Every once in a while, I'll come here in the wintertime, when everything's boarded up, and walk along the boardwalk just to collect my thoughts."_

"_That sounds bleak."_

"_It's more peaceful than anything. Sometimes the city gets to be too much, especially when it's added to whatever problems I've got. It makes it easy to forget that Manhattan is only a train ride away."_

"_Is it too much now?" Grace asked._

_Karen looked at her, not realizing she had dropped the smile she once wore, not realizing how serious the moment had become. "It's getting better," she murmured._

"Do I really have to tell you everything about my day?" She didn't mean to sound so defensive, but he was pulling the tone out of her. "I woke up, had half a bowl of cereal for breakfast before I had to go to work. It was slow, I forgot about my meeting today, so I decided to go into Brooklyn. I took the F train in. I was alone, I spent the day in the borough, and I came back."

"Grace, it's fine. You don't have to get this way. I'm sorry."

But she didn't hear Will's apology. She didn't hear what he was saying after that. Why did she lie to him? _I was alone_. Who would it have hurt to fill him in? He knew about her past with Karen, he had seen it with his own eyes when they weren't careful. He would have been sensible. He would have talked her down. He would have put things into perspective in a way that she could never do for herself. And yet there she was, with the taste of a lie still lingering on her lips. She had to do it, whether or not she fully realized why. Soon, she'll see the reason, and soon, she'll understand that she did the right thing.

Because whether or not she wanted to see it, the truth was there: she was scared of saying it out loud because then it would be come real, the way they had come so close to the edge without going over, and the distinct possibility of running past the point of no return if she was given the chance.

_They sat in silence for a while as the sun set in Brooklyn. It was better if they didn't talk, Grace thought. There was no way of words getting her into trouble this way. Although, thinking back on their history, not voicing what really mattered was one of the things that eventually caused their downfall (tall, handsome doctor notwithstanding). But if she voiced it now, it would be even worse. Instead, she took in the pinks and oranges setting the sky on fire before it fizzled out and turned black. She nearly lost herself in the scenery until, so faintly, she heard Karen's voice, smaller than she ever remembered it._

"_You're dangerous, Gracie."_

_She looked over at Karen at the sound of her name, the gorgeous way she had always crafted that nickname in her mouth. No matter how hard she tried, the red head couldn't will Karen's gaze to meet hers. She wasn't about to play dumb; Grace knew exactly what she was talking about. She waited for a moment before she could bring herself to respond. "Are you scared of me?" she asked, her voice starting to crack at the end. She wondered how long it would be until it shattered completely._

_Karen didn't take her eyes away from the ocean. "I should be," she answered honestly, "but I'm not." And as though she had memorized every physical thing about Grace (the red head didn't know that after two years, she still had everything committed to memory), her hand found Grace's in an instant, her fingers hooking around the delicate ones she had once felt along her bare skin. It would be as far as they would go tonight (Grace didn't have a response to what was said and Karen didn't expect one), but god…there it was. The warmth radiating that Grace always associated with Karen. It was becoming harder and harder to resist._

_She didn't want to anymore._

"Look, I'm tired," she said to him wearily. "I'm going to hop in the shower and go to bed." She stood up and made her way into the bathroom. And as she let the hot water fall onto her pale skin, she brought the hand that was linked with Karen's to her chest and rested against the wall with her eyes closed. She was far from tired; she was charged. And she knew it was going to be hard to sleep tonight.

Will looked back towards the hallway until he heard the sound of water coming from the showerhead. He reached for his book on the coffee table until he realized that Grace's shoes were still underneath. With a sigh, he picked up after her, grabbing her shoes and making his way to her bedroom to put them away. The insides were gritty, and he couldn't, for the life of him, realize why there was sand in them. He put them by the door before he retired to his own room.

At night, Grace lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why the need to lie—to Will, to Karen, to herself—was such an intense one.


	8. Just Like Heaven

**NOTE:** I am so sorry for the incredibly long delay! Real life took over for a little while (aka finishing up my last semester of college) and I didn't have the time to write. But now that I have a few months until I start my master's degree, I'll be updating regularly. To those who have been following this story, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments you've given me so far. I'm glad you're enjoying the story as much as I enjoy writing it.

_Then_

She was a dive bar beauty queen.

She always had been a sight to behold, but oddly enough, it was almost as if this was her natural habitat, thriving in a place that didn't have the slightest clue of the life she carried in Manhattan. The neon signs advertising cheap beer illuminated her skin in ways natural light never could. The way she had taken to wearing frayed jeans and a tank that hugged her body almost as tightly as her most intimate connections once did. The way her porcelain fingers slid along the buttons of the jukebox, her dangerous hazel eyes studying the names of the songs like she'd be tested on them later. The way her hair fell to her shoulders when she actually let it down, her free hand brushing it from her eyes as she bit her lower lip in concentration. The sly smile playing across her face as one of the regulars lifted her glass in greeting (how often did she come here, to be recognized like that?). It should scare you, the way she can adapt to any situation so perfectly. It should scare you, because you never truly know who she is—it all depends on the setting. It should scare you, because a smile like that can pull you under like the tides. It should scare you, because people like that have the potential to be the most dangerous.

But when Grace walked in, she was drowning in Karen's spell. And she wouldn't have minded if she didn't come back up for air.

Maybe it was the fragility of Coney Island two weeks ago, the way it contrasted with what the red head was seeing now, that made it damn near impossible to turn her gaze away. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't seen Karen outside of the office in those two weeks. Maybe it was the fact that Karen had always been a beauty queen, but one of those pristine, high-class ones that you're used to finding but captivated by anyway. Maybe it was the fact that she was just so exhausted in her attempts to distance herself from how she felt; she almost laughed out loud, thinking about what Karen had said while they were sitting in the sand as the sun set over Coney Island, that Grace was the dangerous one. But whatever brought it on, she could feel the risk. She was staring it directly in the face. And as she walked over to the jukebox, she brushed it off, knowing that she would welcome whatever came her way with open arms.

The red head peeked over Karen's shoulder, watching as her fingers pressed down on a button that made "Just like Heaven" spill from the speakers. Grace smiled and wondered if there was a deeper meaning to the choice, but knew it would halt everything if she asked. Instead she leaned into Karen's ear and murmured. "Did I ever tell you about Will's Cure phase?" Karen shook her head, never shifting from her spot. "It was all he would listen to his last year of college. I had to fight him with the scissors because he was letting his hair grow out like the lead singer's."

Karen turned around, leaning against the jukebox with the same turn of a smile she gave that woman in passing. "How have I never heard that before?" she asked with a hint of skepticism.

"Because when he looks back on it, it's an embarrassing moment he'd rather forget…either because of the way he looked or the fact that I had more upper body strength than he did. Or both. I kind of like to hold it over him as potential blackmail. Comes in handy if I ever need to win an argument."

Grace lit up as the dark haired woman laughed. "Careful, honey," Karen said as she took the red head's hand, led her to a seat as she motioned for a couple of drinks. "You're starting to sound like me."

"I'm starting to think that maybe that's not a bad thing." She watched as Karen raised an eyebrow before turning her gaze to the door, watching as a group made their entrance and sidled up to the bar. Grace waited until they were out of earshot from the rest of the bar—which was honestly not a big feat to accomplish—before she brushed her fingers along the dark haired woman's forearm, demanding her attention, before she locked eyes with Karen. "Why did it take two weeks for you to see me?" she asked.

"I could ask the same of you. If you wanted to see me, you could have picked up the phone."

Well. She couldn't argue with that. Grace's lips parted for a moment, wanting to say something that wasn't there, striving for something she wasn't sure was safe. Then again, wasn't that always the thrill? And who's to say it isn't safe? Karen was never one to hurt her, now or ever. It was strange when she thought about it, really; she had known Will for nearly twenty years, she had family who were a mere phone call away, and yet Karen was the one who held the entirety of her trust. She kind of liked it that way.

"What?" The red head hadn't realized she had been staring until Karen called her attention. Grace startled back into reality, hoping to recover whatever ground she had lost in those seconds (minutes? Probably minutes) she spent studying the woman in her sightline. But her words always came around slower than her mind.

"I just…I forgot how stunning you are."

She pulled back from the touch she had initiated as soon as she said it, winced a little at the heavy cliché she allowed to spill from her lips before she could catch it. But, in all honesty, it was true. As soon as she walked into the place, it was all she saw, the fact that this woman could adapt to anything, and do it with a grace that no one else she knew had. She wanted to get up and leave now, murmur a quick apology before she made any more of an embarrassment of herself, and she inched away slowly, until she felt Karen's hand on her skin. "Don't leave me now," she said, small enough to be barely heard over the music and the crowd. "We only just started. I don't want to lose you to fear again." Karen motioned for two more drinks as Grace relaxed into her seat, stunned by how sweet the blatant honesty was. Because those two weeks without picking up the phone, the resistance to something that will inevitably happen anyway, were born out of the fear of repeating a cycle that had harsh repercussions. But if Karen wasn't going to keep her distance, why should she?

Suddenly she felt herself sliding towards the radiating warmth of the woman next to her.

Throughout the night, the drinks kept coming, faster than she could realize, faster than she could offer to pay for her share of the tab. But it was amazing; the room got hazier, fuzzier, nearly nonexistent, but Karen…god, Karen. She was crystal clear, she was the focus. She was always the focus. Those drinks, they gave her courage. Leaning in close, letting her touch linger. Whispering in Karen's ear so closely that it was nearly a kiss. And Karen going along with it, adding fuel to the fire like she had a full bottle of kerosene she couldn't wait to pour. Grace eyed the open bathroom door, stood up—not without stumbling from the booze in her system—and took a firm hold of Karen's hand. "I can't take this anymore," she said as she pulled her through the bar, to the back, to the open door.

Fighting this became more and more pointless as the days went on.

Grace locked the door behind them as she pressed her back to it, smirking at the woman in her hands as she did so. "_Show me show me show me how you do that trick_," she sang in a low voice, mirroring the lyrics of the song Karen had put on the jukebox. She let a finger slide along the dark haired woman's collarbone. "_The one that makes me scream, sh—_" She was silenced by a kiss that ripped through her, the force of the action mixing with the delicate taste of Karen's lips in a way that made her weak with nostalgia. She had missed this, more than she realized. Karen's hands sliding down her back sent that familiar tingle through her spine, the chills that used to signal her surrender. The dark haired woman's alabaster hand slipped underneath Grace's shirt brushing along the skin of her stomach as the red head smiled into Karen's mouth. But before they went any further, Grace pulled away from Karen's lips, leaning into her ear, smirking at the idea in her mind.

It was a little slurred when it made its way to her lips, but it was adamant.

"We shouldn't have waited this long."

* * *

><p>She woke up with the sun in her eyes and a jumbled mind and felt like a college kid again (if it weren't for the massive hangover, she would have the energy to analyze just how horrible that feeling was). She woke up unable to remember the tail end of last night, and couldn't for the life of her decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She woke up in the clothes she wore the night before—minus the shoes—and figured it could be worse. She woke up underneath sheets she couldn't place at first, but after a minute of becoming fully conscious, she understood where she was. But she didn't understand how. Because she woke up in the apartment she used to share with Leo.<p>

Her head was pounding, but she fought the urge to lay back in bed, slowly but surely letting her legs dangle over the edge of the mattress. She couldn't have gotten here on her own; she had been too drunk to be safe, and she knew Karen wouldn't have let her out of her sight until they got to someone's home. Karen. Was she here? Grace looked over at the other side of the bed and saw that the sheets were messed up too much for her to have done the damage on her own. "Kare?" Her voice was excruciatingly loud in her head, but it couldn't have been more than a soft call. No one answered, no one stirred. She was alone in the apartment, despite her hope that she wasn't. Grace made herself stand up with the breakable promise that she would find something that would clue her in as to what was going on.

And then, she noticed the piece of paper on the nightstand, the black ink looped in the dark haired woman's unmistakable handwriting. The words on the page that sparked more questions than she could handle.

_I'm sorry I couldn't._


	9. Giving Up The Fight

_Then_

If she didn't know any better, she would have told you that she just went back in time.

She swore to god, this place was playing the same damn song it was the last time she was here; two years since she set foot in this coffeehouse, but she never heard this tune anywhere else. She hadn't even been near Chelsea since she ended things with Karen back then, if only for the simple fact that this neighborhood, and this coffeehouse, held too many sentimental memories that were dangerous to delve back into. But even though the faces were different—at least those of the customers—the place stayed the same. There was some sort of odd comfort in that, how something that held significance in her past was almost frozen in time. Walking up to the counter, she was fishing for her wallet until she heard "Grace!" in a voice she couldn't quite place. When she looked up she found the barista behind the counter who used to take her order, smiling wide as he said, "It's about time you showed up again. Where have you been?"

No. She couldn't do this. She shouldn't have to do this. "I moved to Brooklyn," she said, putting a succinct end to what could have been a long and painful conversation.

"Let me get you your usual." God, he was good. She couldn't even remember what she usually ordered here, so how could he? She made her way to the window seat with her drink in hand, watching the customers occupying the tables, waiting for the answers she was hoping to get today. It made sense that they would meet here; everything up until now was coming around to repeat. It was only a matter of time before this place became a second home once again. Grace put her head in her hands—partly because of the weight of the nostalgia, partly because of the headache that she still had not been able to shake—thinking of the note she found as she woke up, the note that was resting in the pocket of her jeans as if she needed it for evidence. Thinking of the kiss in the bathroom of the bar, how that was the last thing she remembered before everything went fuzzy and dark. This was a mess. And she was waist deep in it.

"How are you feeling?" She looked up to find Karen taking a seat across from her, setting her coffee mug on the table with a concerned look on her face. It was astonishing, really; Grace was certain that Karen drank just as much, if not more, than she did last night. But here she was, fully functional and alert, as if nothing happened. How the hell did she do it?

"Like I just slipped into a time warp," she said. She looked around as she spoke, caught the eye of the barista looking over at their table; if he remembered, Grace, then he certainly remembered Karen, and was no doubt putting together the pieces of a puzzle that didn't need completing. She wished she knew if she could smile at the sight, if there was something to smile about, if what she wanted to happen last night actually happened, or if they were further away from it than they were before.

Karen offered a weak smile, and the red head couldn't be sure if it was because of the memories or false kindness; there was always the possibility of Grace treating her unfairly last night, and she hoped to god that wasn't the case. "I meant the hangover. Assuming that you have one."

"Oh." Grace could feel the mistake heating her cheeks. "It's nothing I can't handle. I should know by now that I shouldn't try to match you like that," she joked. She watched as Karen slipped her sunglasses off of her head and into her purse in a swift motion before the dark haired woman's gaze was returned to the situation at hand. They sat there for a moment, silent, letting the music from the speakers and the conversation from the surrounding tables take over the conversation for them. There was no way to skirt around the subject, especially here. So much of their history was embedded in this place. The beginning of their downfall floated in the atmosphere here. If she was going to fair, she had to cut to the chase. "So, I know this is going to make me sound horrible," she said as she fished in her pocket for Karen's note. She opened it up and slid it across the table. "But I don't know what this means. The last thing I remember is going into the bathroom at the bar."

Karen tried to flatten the curled piece of paper with her fingers, concentrating as she pressed it against the wooden surface of the table. "Maybe it's best if you don't remember," she said. "I'm not saying you did anything wrong. It's just that, if we're going to be friends, maybe we shouldn't be having this conversation. We don't want to open up this can of worms again."

There it was, that word that Grace had come to despise with all of her being. _Friends_. She had only agreed to it so that she wouldn't lose Karen from her life, in whatever capacity. And what was the use of sticking to that label, anyway? They were nearing the beginning of the cycle again, the red head could feel it. Why try to avoid the inevitable? "Karen, I have to know what happened last night," she said sternly. "I have to know if I hurt you, if I did anything I can't take back."

"Gracie, you didn't hurt me. Don't worry about that." Grace couldn't help but relax at the sound of the nickname. Karen wasn't the first one to call her by that name, but she was certainly the one to perfect it. Karen sighed. "You want to know what happened last night?" Grace nodded. "I wanted it. I'm not going to lie to you; there's no use in doing that. I wanted it. And I would have gone for it, too. But I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I saw what we were doing, and…god, Grace, you were so drunk last night. I thought that you'd wake up in the morning, remember what happened, and hate me for letting it get that far. There was no way I was going to take advantage of you. So, you murmured something about going somewhere quieter. I was planning on getting you back into Manhattan, but your apartment…sorry, Leo's apartment…was so much closer, and I just wanted to get you somewhere safe." She paused for a moment, took the note she wrote in her hands before she continued. "You fell asleep as soon as you hit the mattress. I slept beside you for a little while, but I woke up in the middle of the night and felt like maybe it wasn't the greatest idea in the world if I stuck around. So I wrote this," she slipped the note back into Grace's hand, "and I got a cab to Manhattan."

Grace looked into her mug, trying to take everything in. Karen was there last night. In the bed she used to share with her husband, but nothing happened. And she couldn't fault Karen for her reasons. If anything, it strengthened whatever was still lingering from the first time they were together. It made her want to reach over to her, brush her lips against her skin. But it was still off limits, despite their brazen attempts from the previous night. She occupied her hands by running her finger along the rim of her mug.

"I just wanted to write that before I left so you wouldn't be left wondering if we did anything. So…do with it what you will." When the red head looked up, she saw the darkness in Karen's eyes, a clear result of what she had just said, and she knew that Karen was thinking of nothing but the worst. And as much as she wanted that light to come back, Grace wasn't sure if anything she could say would fix it. But it didn't mean she wouldn't try.

"Why do we have to stay friends?" she said quietly, and she could see Karen jerk back in her seat in surprise. "I appreciate what you did last night. And I appreciate the fact that you've been there for me while I'm getting through my divorce. But why are we fighting this, Karen? Why do I have to keep up the effort to fight this?"

"You just got divorced! I just got divorced too. I'm not going to…" Karen paused, knowing that her voice was rising, almost wanting to look around to see if anyone around them was eavesdropping but not breaking her hold on the red head's gaze. "I'm not going to rebound with you. You mean too much to me for us to do that."

"Who says it's going to be a rebound?" She took a chance, slid her hand in Karen's and hesitated for a moment, taking in the softness of it all. "The only thing that got in the way last time was that pretty regrettable encounter with Leo. He showed me who he really is now. He showed me how wrong I was. I have no ties, and neither do you. And I don't know about you, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you lately. You've got that same pull that you always had. So what's stopping us?"

Grace could feel it in the touch, Karen moving to pull her hand away before thinking otherwise and resting again. The dark haired woman took a breath. "I don't want to lose you like that again. It hurt so much the first time, and then to actually watch you marry him…Anyway, I know how that feels. I don't want to feel that again. Especially now that yet another one of my marriages completely crumbled. I don't want to fight this either, because I feel it, I really do. And god, I wanted nothing more than to give in last night. But if we label it, I get hurt if it fails, because I know exactly what I'm losing. And if we don't label it, I get hurt if it fails, because I hyped it up to be something it obviously wasn't. It's too dangerous," she said, recalling what she said about Grace in Coney Island. The red head was a dangerous woman in these circumstances. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to play with fire.

"What's life if you don't take a risk every once in a while?" Grace asked with a small but sly smile. "You told me you weren't going to hurt me. I will spend all my time trying to make you see that I've got nothing but those intentions for you. Don't fight against this anymore. I'm not asking you to jump into this head first. I just want you to see where this goes."

And suddenly, Karen tightened her hold of Grace's hand, let out a small laugh of concession. "You know, you craft a pretty convincing argument," she said. And once she fell silent, the remnants of her laughter left behind the light that Grace had missed so much.

"So, I must know…why did you want us to meet here?" the red head asked.

"Because I figured one of two things would happen. This meeting could go horribly wrong and effectively squash any sentimental feelings I had toward the place, and I could eventually move on. Or, something good would happen in the place that meant so much to us in the past. It seemed kind of poetic either way."

Grace's smile grew wider as she pulled Karen to sit beside her. "I think you can safely assume that this is something good," she murmured. Slowly—if she went too fast, she could ruin it—she leaned in and brushed her lips against Karen's, let them linger for a moment before she pulled away the slightest bit.

It was when Karen kissed her back that she knew she could give up the fight.


	10. Him And Her And You And Me

_"When at first I learned to speak,  
>I used all my words to fight<br>With him and her and you and me,  
>Oh, but it's such a waste of time<br>Yeah, it's such a waste of time."  
>~The Avett Brothers, "I And Love And You"<br>_

_Now_

You never saw it, because I never liked how it looked on me, and I think on some strange level I will perpetually be trying to impress you (and I can hear you in my mind protesting; I had already gotten to you, why put myself out like that?). But god, when I first found out about Leo, I fought everyone like I had just picked up a vocabulary and could only use it in rage.

I fought with him, I fought with Leo like it was required for my survival. Obviously it was the natural reaction. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me, but I didn't know how I could possibly take a shot that would equal the damage he did. So I used my words, trying to find something in my language that would give me that look of helplessness, that crack of defeat in his voice, that I truly wanted. But even at my most vicious, I never got what I desired, perhaps because I never really knew how to be vicious. The worst thing I have ever done is let you down the way I did when I first met Leo, and even though you've told me otherwise, I know that that was me at my most brutal. I just didn't have it in me at that point to match that again; little did I know I would match it last night. He took my verbal punches like a champ, never once feeling deterred from the fight of our rapidly crumbling marriage. And it didn't satisfy that raging part of me that needed to lash out.

So I turned my attention towards her, towards the woman he slept with in Cambodia. I've never met her, and probably never will. Leo never told me what her name is. I have no idea what she looks like, or how she sounds, or what it was about her that made my husband loosen his grip on his fidelity. Maybe she said something that I never had the courage to say. Maybe it was a look, mixed with the fact that I had flown back to New York a long time ago, and he was getting lonely. Or maybe it was what drew me to you in the first place; maybe it was the warmth of her touch that he just couldn't resist (while I can't excuse it, I would know where he's coming from. After all, I was with Nathan when you first hooked me in). But I had an image of her in my mind, and it was she that I fought. Mainly when I was alone, when Will was on a date with Vince or at work while I had the day off. When I knew I had the apartment to myself, I would just let it out, vocalize everything about this woman I never knew, thinking it would untie the knot that was lodged in my chest. But this didn't last long, and I knew it never could. Because while this woman was real to Leo, she was merely a figment of my imagination. And because I would never meet her—or at least I never planned to—all of my protests died as soon as they hit the air.

But then you came back from Hawaii, I found you coming in from the fire escape at the office. And suddenly, all my energy was put into fighting off those old feelings. And I've got to tell you, Karen, you really took my mind off of all the things plaguing it. But it wasn't in the way I had hoped, at least not at first. I was never a good judge of the motives of others; I never let myself believe that those signals indicating that you felt the same way were real, because I didn't want to shatter the foundation that we just started rebuilding. But, god, I was getting tired. It exhausted me, keeping my lips away from yours, keeping my touch away from your skin, keeping my thoughts away from the desire to wrap you in my arms. And the way you kept leading me to the edge, whether or not you knew it. I wanted to jump off, take that risk. But my body wasn't equipped to handle that. Until that day in the coffeehouse.

When you kissed me back, there wasn't a need to fight like that anymore. And just like all the fighting I had done in the beginning, when I first found out about Leo, it was a completely pointless waste of time.

God, it was so easy to fall back in, Karen. It was almost as if we had simply been on pause for two years, until someone effectively pushed play again and we went about our life together as if nothing bad had happened, as if Leo had never piqued my curiosity and cut that semi-secret but wholly beautiful tie between us. We made Brooklyn our home, retreating to the dive bars and the bookstores, feeling the sand between our toes in Coney Island. We took up residence in the Chelsea coffeehouse once again, succumbing to the time warp and falling into step with the pace of our old Manhattan haunts. And just like the past, we never labeled what we were doing when it still counted.

Why are we so afraid to call it out for what it was? Is it really that difficult? We went through all of the motions, did everything everyone else does when they say they're in a relationship. And this time, we were free. We didn't have to sneak around pre-existing relationships. We didn't have to sneak around Will. And yet we never made a move to legitimize any of it. Maybe that's what made it easier for me to do what I did. Twice.

But then that would mean some of the blame is on you. And we both know that this is fully my burden, my fault. You don't deserve to feel this weight. Because it gets harder to breathe with every step, although now, I can't tell if it's actually because of the blame, or if it's because I find myself magnetically pulled to the place where you changed it up, where you did the one thing I didn't think would happen, if only because there was no precedent. And maybe if you had done it before, I would have cemented myself in your presence (if this sounds like I'm blaming you, I'm not; you know me, Karen, how easily swayed I can be sometimes). Honestly, I didn't think that that was what it was, because even you would have to admit that it was considerably meeker than every other time, when you had done it with such ease. But as I sit here alone in this subway car, the light above me flickering as if it isn't sure if I should stay in the dark, I'm beginning to realize exactly what it meant. All I know is that it played a giant part in changing my mind now, even if I am a little late to act on it.

You fought for me.

Part of me doesn't want to admit it, either because I was too foolish to understand what that kiss meant or because deep down I did understand but the obligation that my wedding ring held got in the way. But I knew I would find you on Coney Island last night, defying any logical voice in your head telling you to stay away from a place like that when it was so late, so dark. And I knew you would speak softly of my decision to try and work things out with Leo. But I wasn't expecting that kiss. I swear, I tasted your tears as your lips brushed mine, even though you probably wouldn't have admitted emotion, and it was too dark outside to tell whether or not you had been crying. You kissed me gently, too gently, like you were growing weaker and this was all you had to offer. This was your only line of defense, the only way to attempt to fix what I broke. Last night, I had taken it to signify your send off, only to be confirmed by the way you were acting at dinner tonight, as I failed to make amends with my husband. But now, as the subway breaks at the final stop, I know that your kiss was a final attempt to keep what we had.

I'm sorry it took me so long to catch on, Karen. Because your fight is the only one that made any sense.

You probably walked the same path last night that I'm walking now. I just want to get to the sand, I want to stand where we stood. I want to make it right, although I know that the chances of that happening are slim. But I've only ever known this place with you. And if I can't have you in my arms, then at least I can have the memories we made surround me. Coney Island is different at night, silent and looming. You told me once, while we were on the beach, that I was the dangerous one. And maybe walking fearlessly—perhaps stupidly—through this part of New York alone in the middle of the night qualifies that aspect in me. But I always play it safe. It's why I ultimately decided to go back to Leo, at least for the time being. I knew Leo wanted me back, even if he didn't deserve another chance. I knew where I stood with him. And although I had a hunch with you, we never labeled it. So I could never be sure.

The sand is cold on my bare feet—but at least I'm feeling something—as I continue the latest fight I find myself in, the one I'm waging against myself. It's a silent war, one that seems pointless, but one that I can't back away from. If anyone else knew, they would think me insane; one moment bashing myself for letting you go so easily, the next internally screaming that you're better off without me anyway. But lately, it's as if these two sides have decided to team up to fight against my entire being. Because even though my feet move closer to the ocean, further away from where you are, my soul is straining to be embraced by you once again. And even though you're not here, at least this place is a start.

Coney Island at night has never dealt me good things, if last night is anything to go on. But the darkness of the air here gives me a clarity that I never could have gotten in such a suffocating place as Leo's apartment. You were right in everything you said to me. Part of me just didn't want you to be. Because if you were right, that means that I threw away what we had for nothing; not once, but twice. And now, as my mind is setting itself straight and can finally make logical decisions, I want nothing more than to ride to Park Avenue and slide into your bed, feel the warmth of your arms around me as we fall asleep. I want nothing more than to feel your lips brush against mine not in futility like last night, but in ecstasy like those nights in the dive bar, paying a quarter for our soundtrack on the jukebox, dancing close with a buzz from a mix of cheap beer and the way you glow in the neon lights. I want nothing more than to feel you press me up against the side of my building in the pouring rain, plunging your kiss into my skin after you tell me you couldn't wait until we were inside, the way you did as we got caught in the storm on the way back from Riverside Park. I want nothing more than to give up this fight like I gave up the resistance to start over again.

I'm so tired, Karen, of everything. But I don't even know if you would give me a place to rest my head.

Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't.

It was a waste of time to fight with Leo because I knew I wouldn't fully back away from my convictions. It was a waste of time to fight internally with the one he slept with, because she would never hear my argument. It was a waste of time to fight with you, because I knew we would fall back into the same step. But it certainly wasn't pointless to fight with myself. Because I know now how stupid it is to be here, when you're in Manhattan. I know now how stupid it is to be living a lie with a man I can't even say "I love you" to anymore. I know now that this place is no longer home, and I know now that I have to leave tonight, if I want to save whatever sanity I have left.

I know now where I should be. I just hope I still know the way to get there.


	11. Up On The Ninth Floor

_Then_

She wanted to close her eyes as they walked hand in hand down Riverside Drive, if only to get back into the blue; she didn't care if it looked odd, she didn't care if it wasn't the smartest idea in the world to walk blindly down a New York City street. She just wanted to see Karen in the same light she had seen her before they left Coney Island for the day.

They had laid a blanket on the sand, relaxing and taking in the sound of the water lapping on the shore. Grace closed her eyes, stretched out on her back as she felt Karen's hand on her thigh and breath on her ear as she whispered detailed descriptions of the people on the beach around them. _There are a couple of kids on the shoreline_, she had said, her voice softening as it hit the red head's ear. _The little boy's helping his sister build a sandcastle before the water washes it away. I don't know where their parents are; I know I wasn't the best stepmother in the world, but I never would have let those kids go off on their own like that. There's a young couple walking by, they can't be too far into the relationship; they look too happy to be in it for more than a year. He's got his arm around her waist and she's looking up at him like she put all of her trust in him. _She had paused for a moment, Grace still in the dark, waiting for Karen's voice. _Oh god,_ Karen had finally said._ Oh, that man is in desperate need of a shirt_, she had blurted out.

_Wait, I want to see_, Grace had giggled out. But when she opened her eyes, all she could see was Karen hovering over her, all smiles, in that blue tint that always comes about once you open your eyes after falling asleep in the sun. And Grace felt nothing but serenity and peace as she looked up at the dark haired woman, feeling her hair fall on her collarbone as Karen bent down to kiss her skin. It made it seem like this was a dream, that she had truly fallen asleep on the sand and she hadn't woken up yet. But she could feel Karen's lips, and she knew that the dream was a reality. _God, you're beautiful._ She hadn't meant to ruin the silent moment between them. But when she felt those words at her lips, she couldn't help but let them free.

Karen had smiled into Grace's neck and let out a low, soft laugh. _You're much too kind_, she said before Grace directed the dark haired woman to her lips.

Now, Grace felt the sand in her shoes as she made the final steps towards her apartment building. The air had smelled like rain as soon as they reached Manhattan, and in the last few blocks, she started to feel drops on her arms as they quickened their pace to reach their destination before they got caught in the storm. She led Karen into the apartment and ran a hand through her hair as she shut the door behind them. "We should be alone for a little while," she said as she made a face; her hair felt gritty as she combed through it with her fingers. "I think I have sand in my hair." She bent over and shook her hair out, watching as the small grains of sand once trapped in her red locks fell onto the hardwood.

Karen watched the whole time. "Will is going to kill you when he finds sand on the floor," she said with a laugh.

She hid it well, but when Karen mentioned his name, Grace couldn't help but wince. She knew that it was stupid to be afraid of him, stupid to worry about him finding out what she was doing with Karen. But it was sheer instinct, something she couldn't shake from the last time they did this. Grace realized that Will would be kind and understanding, and there wouldn't be anything to be ashamed of, now that the two of them are both single. But while part of her is still hiding because of instinct, the other part of her is hiding because she knew what it looked like. Karen called it a couple of weeks ago; to anyone who knew their history, this looks like a rebound. It looks like Grace couldn't handle the divorce, or being alone again, and ran into the first pair of arms that opened for her. And while she knew that Will probably wouldn't call it that, there was always that possibility. That's what frightened her about him.

"I can handle it," the red head said as she straightened up, fixing a smile on her face for Karen. "I'm a big girl," she winked. "Let me step into the shower quickly, and I'll be right back." She brushed her lips against Karen's cheek before making her way towards the bathroom, leaving the dark haired woman to her own devices.

Grace slipped out of her sun dress and kicked it to the far end of the bathroom, stepped into the shower and closed her eyes as soon as the hot water hit her skin. Time seemed to stand still as she did, as it always seemed to when she had even a fleeting moment to herself. Lost in her thoughts, lost in memories, her mind wandering to the places it knew she loved as the water poured from above her. It was why Will always took a stern tone with her as she walked out of the shower, like a child, because she had taken too long. It was why the room became unbearably hot if she didn't turn the fan on beforehand.

It was why she didn't realize at first that Karen had stepped into the shower with her.

The red head jumped when she found Karen in front of her with a big smile on her face and laughed as she brought her closer to her body. "God, you should warn me when you're going to do something like that," she said, thrilled by the surprise of her.

"Huh," Karen said as she tilted her head. "I would have thought that my opening the shower door would have tipped you off." She put on a sly smirk. "That's okay," she murmured, barely audible against the slap of water against the shower floor. "I tend to go off into my own little world, too." The red head turned so they both were caught under the makeshift waterfall, as Karen's lips slipped along Grace's, her hands running through the flames of her hair that had now been extinguished and darkened by the shower. They stood there, frozen in the moment, fingers woven with each other as they took in the atmosphere. And while Grace didn't want to break the blissful silence, she couldn't help herself.

"I hope this isn't your way of saying that I was taking too long. I was just about to get out." She locked her eyes with Karen's, perhaps for the first time fully realizing how warm the hazel was and smiled.

"Take your time. The surprise can wait." And with that, as Karen laughed at the sight, Grace hastily shut the water off and grabbed a towel, waiting in impatience for Karen to do the same.

Karen took Grace by the hand—both clad in silk robes after toweling off—and led her towards the terrace. Outside, the rain started to steadily fall, but the balcony above sheltered them from it all, and kept them in their own private space. Karen had lay down blankets on top of the comforter from Grace's bed for a softer surface—"I swear I'll put it in the wash once we're done," she said—with a few pillows to the left. She had a bottle of Pinot Noir chilling in a metal bucket of ice, and poured two glasses before she pushed a button on the portable stereo she brought outside. Softly, Billie Holiday started singing about love going to her head, about how it intoxicated her. "I may have borrowed this from Will," Karen said with a smile as she handed Grace her glass of wine. "You told me a while back that he had this in his collection."

"I can't believe you remember that," Grace murmured, but even as she started to say that she couldn't quite place the conversation, it immediately came back to her. That initial attraction as she stayed the night, to be some sort of comfort as Karen faced a night alone as a convict's wife. The blush-inducing fact that Grace had been caught making herself at home to the point of putting on a Holiday record like the penthouse was her own. The confessions that were pouring out of Karen as they poured the wine. Of course the red head remembered it all. And the fact that Karen had recreated the scene to match the evolving state of their connection only solidified the feeling that resided in her lately; this was exactly where she wanted—and needed—to be.

For a moment, Grace fell into the spell of what she was witnessing, Karen's back turned towards her as she leaned on the balcony staring down at the city below, the blue-grey sky offering an oddly serene backdrop as the rain served as perfect accompaniment for Billie Holiday. She thought that if she touched the dark haired woman, this perfect painting would smudge. But as she placed her hand gently on Karen's shoulder, she found that it didn't smudge, it didn't smear. She found that she became part of this imagery, another figure in a brilliant work of art. The red head let her hand fall from its perch as she slid her arms around Karen's waist. She kissed the nape of her neck and felt that her hair was still damp from the shower. "Come lay down with me," she said slowly. She felt Karen's delicate touch on her hand, the grip tightening as Grace led her to the blankets on the ground.

She felt Karen settle into the crook of her arm, the weight of the dark haired woman's head resting on her chest. "I've spent so much of this summer pissed off," she said softly, wondering how it sounded when Karen put her ear to the red head's chest. "At Leo, at the woman he slept with, at myself. But right now, nothing else seems to matter except this. Part of me…" she trailed off and shook her head. It was stupid, what she wanted to say. And she didn't want to ruin the moment. "Never mind," she whispered.

Karen looked up at her and smiled. "Tell me," she murmured.

"Part of me almost wants to shrug it all off, to not hold this grudge against him. Because I know now how foolish I was for running off with him in the first place. And the fact that we're here now, like this…it means more to me now than it probably would have if we never parted ways."

With that, the dark haired woman propped herself upright before hovering above the red head like she had on the sand at Coney Island. "I promise that I'll make this last as long as I possibly can."

Up on the ninth floor of this building, on a terrace overlooking an eerily quiet Manhattan, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. So much so that they started to act like it. Karen started to slip Grace's robe off of her shoulders before working on her own, and pulled a blanket over their bare skin. Sheltered from the rain, and the city, the dark haired woman navigated the curves of the red head's body. But they were unaware of the outside world. Because up on the ninth floor, the front door to apartment C opened as Will came home. Up on the ninth floor, he spotted Karen's purse by the fireplace, her discarded clothes in a pile with Grace's on the bathroom floor. Up on the ninth floor, he passed the terrace and heard the music, saw the mass of blankets through the window and was about to say something.

But he stopped himself. Because up on the ninth floor, he had always concerned himself with protecting Grace's supposed happiness.


	12. Everything's Fine

_Then_

"Am I still supposed to act like I don't know what's going on?"

She should have known that she would face this sooner rather than later. In fact, she was well aware of the certainty of the encounter. But because it hadn't happened all day, and because of the near solitude they had experienced, Karen believed for a fleeting moment that she could get away with this scot-free. She woke up in the middle of the night to find the screaming electric red of Grace's alarm clock staring her down and a sweetly sleeping red head lying in her arms. It wasn't her plan to spend the night. But how could she possibly have passed this up? Not after everything leading up to now had been dreamlike; she would not be the one to bring them crashing down into reality. Karen slid her arms off of Grace's waist—slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her up—before she silently made her way towards the kitchen to get something to drink. She groped the wall to find the light switch.

But because she hadn't fully adjusted to being awake, it took her a second to realize that someone had already turned the lights on.

As her eyes opened wider, she could see the back of Will's head turn from his place on the couch to face her. She wasn't sure what she should address first: the fact that she just walked out of Grace's bedroom, or that she had done so in an oversized grey t-shirt from Columbia University that had been passed on from Will to Grace and now to her. It was a shock in itself to find out so late at night that Karen had been sleeping in the red head's bed, which was why Grace had insisted on closing the door to the bedroom before they fell asleep. But he had never seen her so dressed down before, which she knew would not go without mentioning. Karen did the only thing she thought of to do; she gave him a small smile as if nothing was out of the ordinary before making her way to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water. It was when her back was turned to him that he said it. _Am I still supposed to act like I don't know what's going on?_

Karen closed the door to the refrigerator and turned to face him. Wearily, she said, "Will, I'm beat. So crucify me now or crucify me later, as long as I don't run out of steam trying to defend myself." She started to walk past the couch, hoping to retreat to Grace's bed. But she felt Will's hand on her forearm as she tried to rush by, and she knew that she wasn't out of the woods yet.

"I'm not going to crucify you," he said. He waited to speak again until she took a seat next to him on the couch. "Honestly, I had a feeling that this would happen. You're single again, she's single again. There was really nothing that would have pulled you apart had Leo not made that untimely appearance." Will saw her take a breath, and he knew the question she was about to ask, answered before she could speak. "I came home and heard the music coming from the terrace. I saw you two out there and decided to just stay in my bedroom until I knew you two were either in Grace's or had gone out."

"Well, I appreciate the privacy." She caught him staring at her as she put the bottle of water on the coffee table. "I'm sorry about this," she said, gesturing to the Columbia shirt. "I wasn't planning on spending the night. It was a spur of the moment thing."

"I figured," he said with a smile. "I did a load of laundry, threw the stuff in the bathroom in with it. I never pegged you for a tank top and jeans kind of person."

"That's because you've never seen me out of costume."

Will didn't say anything for a while. It was one of the only times, if not the first time, that she had ever come right out and admitted to the illusion. Once, when he first found out about Karen and Grace two years ago, he thought that who Karen Walker was and who she made herself out to be publicly were two different people. And if he was completely honest, she was an excellent actress, and she sold the part convincingly up until that point. Which was why he saw the clothes on the bathroom's tile floor that he knew weren't Grace's and, for the life of him, could not wrap his head around the fact that they were Karen's. But she had been keeping up appearances for her marriage's sake long before she ever thought twice about the red head. And whether it was because of the late hour, or he finally put the pieces together, Will couldn't help but notice just how tired she truly looked.

The silence in the air started to become oppressive, suffocating. He knew it was his turn to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say other than what slipped out of his mouth, and as soon as those words wedged their way between them, he instantly regretted the question. "Is this a rebound?"

"God, I hope not." Karen let herself sink into the couch at his question, almost as if his words deflated her. "She says it isn't, at least she did when we talked about all of this. And things are going so well between us that I don't want to question it."

"But you are. I know you are. I would be too."

"He's going to come home eventually." Will wanted to dismiss it as a yawn in her voice, but he had the overwhelming notion that Karen's voice was starting to crack because of tears. It was too much for him to take in all at once, this total one-eighty her character was doing. Just like it was too much for her to take to think of Leo coming back to the States. "And there's no way she's going to be clueless when it happens. Every time the phone rings around her—at the office, whenever we're alone and her cell starts to go off—I think it's him telling her that he booked a flight from Cambodia. Or he'll just surprise her with an unannounced arrival, you know? She'll walk into the Brooklyn apartment one day to get a box of her things, and he'll be on the couch in the living room reading a book. Or he'll be in the bedroom getting dressed, or in the kitchen getting something to eat." She stopped for a minute to collect her thoughts, to collect herself so she didn't fall completely apart. "Look, I know he did a horrible thing, and I know she keeps saying that she'll never forgive him. But she left me for him before. There's obviously something about him, something that I don't have, that makes her go to him. Who's to say it won't happen again, Will? I don't know if I can take it if it happens again."

Will took her hand—which was clenched in a fist like she had to put up a fight—and moved in closer to her and waited to speak until she looked him in the eye. "I can't tell you what's going to happen next month, or next week, or even tomorrow. I can't tell you how she's going to react when she sees him again. But you can't be a part of this relationship preparing for the worst. You're going to miss the best of it when you do that. If you just try to put all of that in the back of your mind, I promise you, everything you do with her will be better than you ever thought it could be." He watched her for a moment, saw the tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't blink. No, that would be an admission of emotion, and for whatever reason—perhaps because it was second nature to her for so long—Karen Walker and emotion had never been a plausible combination. "Don't feel like you have to sneak around. I'm not here to make your life harder. I know you haven't told Jack yet, but he's easy to maneuver around, you don't have to worry about him."

Finally, he felt her hand start to relax itself, and smiled as a reflex. "I'm not used to you being so nice to me," she said as she tried to curl her lips into some semblance of a smile.

"Maybe I'm just feeling generous," he joked. And because it was instinct, he pulled her into his arms, not fully realizing what he had done. But when he had, he also realized that Karen had given in. He felt it as her hands met at his back, and he knew that if he ever doubted her for a second, if he ever doubted how she felt towards Grace, he was foolish for doing so.

When Karen went back into the red head's bedroom, set the water bottle on the nightstand before she quietly climbed back into bed. She felt Grace stirring beside her, locked eyes with the red head's small and weary ones. "Is everything okay?" Grace asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

Karen brushed Grace's hair away from her face and put on a smile. "I didn't mean to wake you, honey. I just needed to get some water. Everything's fine."

But as Grace settled back into Karen's arms for the night, the dark haired woman knew that beyond the surface, she had just lied to the red head. Right now, at this moment, everything was fine. But she couldn't help feeling that Will's advice had merely translated to this: ignore the inevitable. Leo was going to call; for all she knew, Leo already did call. Maybe he wasn't put off by Grace's silence any longer, and he was trying to get a hold of her once again. Maybe…

She knew Will was right. Of course he was. She knew she was only wasting energy worrying over it. But what else could she do? She was completely blindsided by it the first time; she knew what she was up against now. In Brooklyn, a phone would start to ring in the middle of the night at the Marcus household, a man would be searching for his wife to apologize and ask for a second chance. And when he realizes Brooklyn is not the place to look for her, he'll go across the bridge, the ringing will make its way to Manhattan. She couldn't help but prepare herself, or at least try to, for what may come. It was how it went for her entire life; as soon as one stress was lifted, another made its way into its place.

Karen could still smell the shampoo in Grace's hair as she fell asleep, wondering how long she could keep up the charade of what she told the red head. Or, at the very least, how to postpone what she was certain would be the inevitable.


	13. Pardon The Interruption

_Then_

"I like the way you say my name."

Karen heard it coming from beside her, and as she looked over, Grace had her lips to her coffee mug and a wide-eyed look on the part of her face that wasn't obscured by ceramic. The dark haired woman almost laughed at the simplicity, the innocence of such a statement. Childlike but not childish. Taking hold of one little piece and protecting it with a tight fist. Doing so with such sincerity that Karen wanted to cry. She never had this before, with anyone. And it was so unprompted; she hadn't said it first, she hadn't said anything at all. She merely set down their order on the same table they always took at the coffeehouse in Chelsea before sitting by the window, clinking her mug with Grace's quietly in a silent toast before taking a sip. She always had to fish for things like this, from Stan, from Lyle, from everyone. She didn't know what to say to it. But luckily, she didn't need to have a response prepared.

"It always sounds like there's this deep meaning to it when there really isn't. You put so much importance in it. It makes me believe that there's something bigger than what I'm seeing, something bigger than me. I like that." Grace looked down at her mug as she placed it back on the table, shrugged a bit as she fixed her gaze on her hands. "Anyway…" she murmured, in an attempt to break the silence.

One impulse. That's all it takes. Karen combed her fingers through the red head's hair, led her to her lips and kissed her neck by the jaw line. "Maybe you just sell yourself short," she whispered. "Maybe I'm just making the view a little bit clearer."

Everything was freer now. In the morning after her conversation with Will, Karen let Grace in on the fact that he knew, that they didn't have to hide from him anymore. But she never expected Grace to employ such a radical change. She was open, she was public, she didn't care if anybody saw what she was doing. There was always a hint of hesitation before, perhaps mixed in with a dash of resistance. Now she didn't care if the entire world knew. It was incredibly liberating, not feeling the weight of that obligation to look over your shoulder every few seconds.

That feeling that Karen had, the one of impending heartbreak. That started to fade, too, and she finally started to act on the advice that Will had given her. She started to grow more confident in their relationship, started to believe that they could withstand Leo's return, maybe even survive it. Whether or not it was a delusion, she couldn't be sure. But if it was a delusion, it was one she didn't mind hanging around.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw the barista at the counter looking over at them, could swear she saw his smile. "Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked before her lips were caught in a kiss.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to break tradition." Karen had spent the last week at the Riverside apartment, feeling more at home there than she had felt anywhere else she had been. "The penthouse is too big for me anyway. It was never mine to begin with. I moved in when I got together with Stan. It was almost as if I was a visitor who had overstayed her welcome, even though there were rings and vows involved."

"Maybe you should think about moving your things to my place. Permanently."

They had never talked about the possibility before, had never gotten this far the last time to consider it, even for a fleeting moment. But the truth was, Karen would have jumped at the opportunity to move in on day one if she had been asked. They just never had the chance to pose the question. Now that it was here, it started to make the coffeehouse, the people around them, and the city itself, fade into black, a spotlight on what felt like the only two people left in the world.

And if it weren't for Grace's cell phone ringing, Karen would have given her definitive answer, causing everyone and everything to take a back seat.

The red head fished around in her purse before she grabbed a hold of her cell phone. She furrowed her brow before showing it to Karen. "Do you know this number?"

Karen shook her head. It was obviously someone calling that Grace didn't personally know; otherwise their name would have appeared on the screen. "Maybe it's one of your clients. Figures you would have to work on your day off."

Grace put the phone to her ear. "Hello?" Suddenly her eyes grew wide, her lips started to form a tight "O" of surprise mixed with a hint of fright. "No." It was quiet, but it was firm. And as if the device had sent a shock through her, she hung up and threw the phone back into her purse in one swift motion. It took her a moment to register the concerned look on Karen's face; honestly, in the flurry she forgot for a second that she wasn't alone. She shook her head, gave the dark haired woman a smile. "Wrong number," she said as she grabbed her coffee mug and hid her face behind it.

Karen knew better, but she wasn't going to question it. Not after the progress they had made. Not after the moment they shared just before the phone call. The only thing she was concerned about now was to make Grace forget about it, direct her mind to focus on something else.

And when they made their way out of the coffeehouse and into daylight, it started to work. Grace glowed under the rays of the sun as she slid her arm around Karen's waist before going into the back pocket of the dark haired woman's jeans and extracting a lighter—"Why should I have to fish around for it when I need a fix?" she said once after Grace watched her toss it on the nightstand before draping her jeans over the pile of her dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom—while Karen took a pack of cigarettes from her purse. Grace swiped one from the pack and lit it, feeling Karen's gaze on her.

"You're a bad influence on me," she said with a smirk after she exhaled and passed the lighter. "I only smoke when I'm sleeping with you."

"Didn't your mother teach you not to give in to peer pressure?" Karen joked. "If you're going to blame me for your bad habits, maybe I should rethink staying over." Grace leaned in to brush her lips against Karen's neck, the scents of lavender and fresh smoke blending together to create an intoxicating fragrance that the dark haired woman wanted to remember forever. The fragrance that would forever be tied to walking the Chelsea streets in nearly unbearable heat but only caring about the hand she was holding, the lips she felt on her skin.

"But then how will I be able to sleep tonight?" Grace was half-kidding. It was always a jarring situation when she had to sleep alone, after lying down beside the one she loved for so long. To have it one way one moment, then to be completely stripped of it in the next was something the red head couldn't fully wrap her head around. And Karen had been sleeping in her bed long enough to let her know that if the dark haired woman were to leave, she wouldn't know what to do with herself. They walked in silence after that, watching the orange glow of the cigarettes burn down to their fingers before hailing a cab uptown.

"Were you serious back there?" Grace had been nestled in the envelope of Karen's arms in the back of the cab when the dark haired woman cut through the air like that. She was hesitant to ask about it in the first place, thinking that maybe it was a fleeting comment that held no true meaning. But the way Grace said it made it seem so genuine, like it was something that could plausibly happen. "You want me to move in?"

"Why wouldn't I be serious?" The red head looked up at her with eyes that trusted her with the world. "You sleep in my bed every night anyway. Will's okay with it, too, it's not like I'm asking a total stranger to move in. There just wouldn't be a hole when you leave where you used to be. I hate it when you're not here. I don't like that feeling."

Karen couldn't help but smile, kiss the crown of Grace's head. "Well, then," she murmured as she felt Grace's grip tighten around her waist. "I'll start packing."

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the Riverside apartment. When Karen walked into 9C, she saw the place in a new light. Before, this had been her escape from the cold sterility of the Park Avenue penthouse. It had been the warmth she had been searching for. It had been solace. Now, as she stood in the doorway, looking at her surroundings, she saw home. This was the place that had entered her thoughts when she imagined the good life, the way everyone does at some point in their lives—a home that matches your desires, friends who love you for who you are and not what you can give them, that one big love that overwhelms all the rest—and the reality of it was too breathtaking for words.

Grace might have seen the same thing when she stepped inside her apartment, if it weren't for her phone ringing once again in her purse.

It was the same number, she could tell; those digits had seared themselves into her memory, and she knew exactly why it was showing up on her phone again. It was the same reason why she didn't want to answer it. Postpone it as long as possible. Postpone it long enough so that it may never happen. They stood by the doorway for a moment, Karen's eyes on Grace in a way that made the red head that felt like she was expectant. She could hear the question that wasn't being asked: _Who is it?_ And she'll be damned if she was going to answer that.

She threw her phone on the living room couch, letting it ring as she pushed Karen up against the door, and pressed her lips fiercely against the dark haired woman's in a flurry of unexpected passion, Karen's body finding the motions and keeping time with hers. Because she wanted to taste the kiss of someone who cared. Because she never wanted that question to hit the air. Because she was never going to let Karen know who was on the other line begging for her attention.


	14. Because The Night

_Then_

It had become her way of compensation, of making up for something that Karen didn't know about, or at least acted as though she didn't know about. It had gotten to the point where it was almost a Pavlovian response; once it sounds, she immediately goes for the reflex motion. Ring, toss, kiss, touch, repeat. A cycle that started in terror but ended in bliss. Karen never knew what brought on these sudden bouts of frantic and flustered romance , but much to the red head's relief, she never asked about it. Why question something so passionate? It was the kind of thing you always wished for as a teenager, that wholehearted, knock-you-off-your-feet love that you only read about or saw in films—they never said "love," old habits die hard, but it was obvious that that's what it was.

Grace looked at the gold band around her finger; until now, she had forgotten that it was there. She had worn it for so long that it became part of her. This marriage, this crumbled failure of a marriage, was part of her, and she couldn't get rid of it. She could slide the band off of her finger, fling it across this bar, but the act cannot erase the past. If the ring wasn't a constant reminder, Leo's constant calls certainly pick up the slack. She never had the heart to tell Karen who was trying to get a hold of her, because she knew how it would go; she learned from experience. And it was no matter anyway, because every time she could see the question start to form on Karen's lips, she kissed it away, and it was never spoken. It was the only way to maneuver around this. Karen had started to bring small boxes of her belongings over to the Riverside apartment, and they were moving forward in ways they never could before.

There was no turning back from this.

The red head finished off her beer and watched Karen, the way she moved in this Brooklyn dive bar, sliding deeper into the corner of the booth she was sitting in as she did so. It was funny; they had been here enough times to be recognized as the Manhattan couple, and Grace still could not get over how comfortable the dark haired woman was here. In all honesty, she could spend the rest of her days just watching Karen adapt to the wilderness of bohemian living. The light from the neon beer signs framed the dark haired woman perfectly as she hovered over the jukebox, concentrating intently on the selection, trying to find the one gem among the sea of dull songs that should have been taken out of the rotation years ago. Karen was biting her lower lip as her eyes scanned her options through the dirty glass. Had it been anyone else, it would have been just another ordinary sight.

But it was Karen. It was one of the most beautiful things Grace had ever seen.

As much as she wanted to focus all of her attention on the woman crafting the perfect late-night soundtrack, the red head couldn't help but think of Leo. The summer was drawing to a close, his stint in Cambodia with Doctors without Borders would be finishing. He'd be back in Brooklyn in a couple of weeks. Maybe that's why he was calling, maybe he was giving her a warning ahead of time. In the form of asking to take him back, of course, but at least she'd know when to start actively avoiding him. It wasn't fair, any of it. It wasn't fair that he could just worm his way into her life at any given moment, and it wasn't fair that she obviously didn't have the capability to stop it from happening. It wasn't fair that she was finally happy with Karen, that they were free of the shackles that had restrained them before, only to find one that had no key to unlock. None of it was fair.

But such is life.

Karen's look of concentration turned to one of satisfaction before she punched in a number on the jukebox. She walked back to the booth, slid into Grace's arms and buried her face into the red head's chest as Patti Smith began to sing "Because the Night" through the sound system. She hummed along to the song before she looked up at the red head and saw the distant look in her eyes.

"Where are you?" she asked. How can such an innocent question in one person's view become so loaded in another's?

Grace locked eyes with the dark haired woman, brushed her brown locks back gently. "I'm right here," she said as she tried to offer a smile. "I've just got a lot of things swimming around in my mind. It's starting to weigh me down." It was the truth, although it was a weak response, a cop out. But she could not bear to watch Karen's face collapse if she mentioned his name. This was enough; Karen could figure out that her marriage proved to be a destroying idea in her head, as did the fact that he was coming home soon, that he'd be more than a figure of speech. That was all she needed to know.

Karen knew how Grace felt. She had been there before, when Stan was released from prison. But things were different now. They were legitimizing their relationship more and more as the days went on. At least in the dark haired woman's mind, she could make it better with a kiss, with a promise, with whatever she had to offer as the person she had become this summer, or whenever they pushed play on their love affair, the person she used to be and longed to get back. "As long as you don't give them the time, they can't weigh you down," she said, watching Grace's features relax as she said that. She started to sing along to the lyrics, "_They can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now_." Déjà vu set to a different song. But will they make it through to the end this time?

She knew it was essentially poetry set to music, but when it came from Karen's lips, Grace believed her; she believed in everything the dark haired woman said. Always the quick fix, but she will take it and cling to it like it was the only solution in the world. Grace shook her head to rid herself of the bad thoughts and put on a genuine smile. "Just when I think I have your true self figured out, you go ahead and pull out your love of Patti Smith," she said with a laugh.

"She's the godmother of Punk. I always just assumed you were required to love her." Karen winked at the red head as she downed the shot that was waiting for her at the table. "Stan hated that I listened to her, he said it didn't mix with who we were. Truth be told, I haven't heard this song in at least twenty years. But lately, I've been feeling more like myself."

Grace could feel Karen's breath on her skin, closed her eyes for a moment to take in the purity of it all, and to realize that just for a moment, everything was perfect. She opened her eyes again, felt the weight of Karen's body in her arms and knew that dwelling on what will be was no way to live. "Thank you for sharing yourself with me," she murmured with such a genuine tone that Karen stopped for a moment to look into her eyes before wrapping her arms around the red head's neck.

In an instant, Grace could taste the tequila on Karen's lips. She could feel Karen's hands slip under the cotton of her shirt. She could feel the warmth of the alcohol in her system mixed with the dark haired woman's touch. She could feel her defense against these things weakening, and she could feel herself caring less. She will surrender herself to Karen if she is given the chance. Because in her arms, she is safe. In her arms is a security she had never before felt, and never again wanted to be away from. Tonight. Let it be tonight.

"Please," she begged as Karen's lips travelled along her neck. "Let me take you somewhere private."

_Because the night belongs to lovers,_ Grace thought, the words in her mind, in her voice, as Patti Smith sang them,_ because the night belongs to us._ They walked out into the Brooklyn night and headed for shelter, to pick up where they left off the night The Cure played them into a frenzy.

* * *

><p>"Why can't you just take a hint?"<p>

"Grace, all I want is a few minutes. Please, just talk to me." She never got this far, never heard him say more than a timid hello, but the ringing had become unbearable. And she didn't need it now, when she was so determined to right the situation they had found themselves in the last time they stopped at her Brooklyn apartment. Karen had gone upstairs, leaving Grace to lock the front door when the red head's cell phone went off.

"You don't deserve a few minutes. You don't deserve the time I'm giving you right now. How do you know I'm not out doing exactly what you've done? Why should I have to live by a moral compass when you obviously have no regard for it?" She started to walk up the stairs, her thumb between her ear and the hang up button, ready to drop the call when he spoke again.

"Because I know you would never do that." He didn't mean it as a challenge, she knew that, but she took it like one just the same. She thought she knew the same about him. Turns out you can never be completely sure of anything you believe to be the truth.

"I don't know you; you can't possibly know me," she murmured angrily into the phone. She walked into the bedroom and found Karen lying on the bed, a smirk on her lips and a come hither look in her eyes. Grace dropped her hand to her waist, her phone by her side as she said, "You certainly cut to the chase," her smile growing wider.

"I was wondering what was keeping you. Come here," Karen said. She sat up as Grace moved close, pressed her lips against the red head's fiercely, passionately, in the way that the red head would do after the phone rang. She kissed her neck as she whispered, "God, I love the way you taste."

That was when Grace hung up the phone. She knew Leo heard everything. She didn't care.

She slid the phone onto the nightstand as Karen pulled her onto the bed and started slipping the fabric of her outfit from her body, succumbing to the dark haired woman's touch.


	15. Break Free, Narrowly Escape

_Then_

It didn't count, because he did it first. That's what she kept telling herself. It didn't count, because the promise had already been broken on one side, so it was a clean break, instead of shattering it into jagged pieces. It didn't count because what she had done wasn't meaningless, and there were no serious repercussions. It didn't count because this is what normal people do with their significant others, and that's who Karen was now. It didn't count because the heat of the moment wasn't playing with her mind. No, she wanted this. She wanted this since she found Karen coming in from the fire escape of the office, fresh off of a new divorce. She wanted this even before then. On some level, she has always wanted it. This is why it could never count, why it could never have the harmful impact of what her husband had done.

But as she woke up the morning after, Karen's eyes still shut in slumber and her hair tangled from a night of tumbling around the pillow, Grace couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt amidst the bliss that the previous night had offered to her.

"_Are you sure?" The tremble in her voice immediately made Karen regret asking in the first place. It made her sound like she doubted herself, when she had already started it. And she was afraid of the answer, especially since they were so close, just one more step and they wouldn't go back. But she wanted to know that Grace understood exactly what they were about to do. It was one thing to be in the red head's bed on Riverside. Hell, it was one thing to be in the bed of the Park Avenue penthouse. But this was Grace's marriage bed. This was sending a message they could never take back. And as much as Karen wanted the brilliance of Grace's skin against hers, she could not in good conscience go into this only to have second thoughts once it's over._

"_Shhh…" Grace brushed her finger against Karen's lips before replacing it with a kiss. She lay Karen down on the bed, straddling her waist as she pulled away. "Just promise me you won't leave in the morning this time." She slid her hands underneath Karen's shirt to lift it over the dark haired woman's head and toss it to the floor._

"_There's nowhere else I want to be." Karen brushed her fingers through Grace's hair and looked at her, studying her face in a moment of sentimentality as if she would never see it again. The red head froze for a moment, caught up in the gesture as time seemed to stand still for just a minute, offering them the feeling that the world was only this moment. And as Grace bent down to kiss the flesh of her stomach, Karen sighed and smiled with the notion that this was what would constitute her life for good. This feeling. This woman. Those lips. This love._

Grace looked towards the dresser. It was there, staring her down. A picture of her, draped in the white of her wedding gown, Leo's hand in hers with his arm around her waist, her smile unaltered by the fact the she had rested her head on his chest. That smile was once a genuine thing when she thought of him. Because he wasn't bad up until this point. His timing may have been a little off, but other than that, he was a good guy. So she thought. Maybe the fact that he walked into her life at such an inopportune time should have tipped her off. That good guy look was merely a mask, perhaps, but he'd never let you think it was by the way he talked to you.

Before she hung up the phone last night, she heard the tone of his voice, the way it was soft, the way it was not expecting anything out of her even though his words said otherwise. He wanted to talk to her, and if it wasn't for the constant reminder in her head of what he had done in Cambodia, she would have stayed on the line. And who's to say he wasn't still doing it in Cambodia? For all he knew, their marriage was effectively over (and it was in Grace's mind—what she did last night couldn't count as infidelity, so her marriage was certainly over), and he knew how strong she could be in her convictions when she wanted to be. If she refused to try to work it out, then the fact of the matter was that she probably would never want to work it out. It's essentially a free pass. Not that he needed one.

Which called into question his fidelity while he was in New York. When she got his phone call at Karen's wedding, he blurred the line between ungrounded fears and reality, so much so that she couldn't tell the difference between the two. He was no longer the man she thought he was. If he could do this in a so-called moment of weakness, then in her mind, he was capable of doing so much worse. Her mind raced with the possibilities, and she never bothered to ask him, partly because she didn't want to talk to him, partly because she was afraid of what he might have done. It was all too much for her to take.

But then she looked at Karen, sleeping on her side. God, Karen. The dark haired woman looked so peaceful now. Grace turned on her side, brushed Karen's hair behind her ear before sliding her hand gently along the curve of Karen's body. One look at her, and she saw how light life can be, she saw how life is supposed to be. She moved in closer to feel the warmth radiating from the dark haired woman, and wanted Karen to wake up if only to be invited to burrow into her arms.

No, this didn't count for infidelity, she decided. It counted as a step towards normal.

_They way they tumbled on the bed felt more like floating. It was just so easy when they were together. She had Grace on her back, hovering above her like an angel who had fallen almost all the way down, but still had hope. "I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel," she said in a hushed earnestness, knowing that if she spoke to loudly, it would shatter the delicate moment they've created. And there, in Grace's eyes, was all of the trust she wished she had in everyone who came along before her. And she knew that she was loved._

_Her lips landed on the red head's chest and started to trail down as Grace directed her to where she desired. Grace could feel it, building up in the core of her being, that anticipation leading to the payoff. That feeling of getting what you want and somehow feeling helpless to stop it—not that she would ever want to. It was gentle—nothing like how an alcohol-fueled rendezvous would typically look—but intense, powerful. And then she felt it. Everything that had been building up inside of her taking her by surprise, leaving her completely breathless. Grace could do nothing but gasp as she threw back her head. And as she felt Karen's hands slide back up her stomach, her lips stopping to kiss her breastbone, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind when she got her voice back._

"_God, I love you."_

Karen's eyes slowly fluttered open as she woke up to Grace softly taming her dark hair. "I told you," she whispered before a yawn overtook her lips, hoping to help shake off the heaviness of sleep against the sunlight shining in through the window. She slid her arm around Grace's waist as the red head leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I told you," she repeated into Grace's skin, letting her lips rest against Grace's collarbone.

"You told me what?" the red head asked softly, her voice low, trying to climb the heights of normality after a night's rest. It was a rare sight to witness, Karen Walker free of makeup, of the chains of societal beauty, exposed in a way that made her look fragile, but Grace knew it was only a front. She knew how strong the woman lying next to her truly was.

"I told you I would be here in the morning."

Grace smiled and kissed the crown of Karen's head. "I know better than to doubt you," she said. She looked over to her wedding photo once more. She wanted to smash it, be free of the image of unity and replace it with the image of shattered glass; it was a better metaphor, anyway. And then, before she could stop it, she asked the question she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to. "Did you mean what you said last night? If you said it just to fill the space, I would understand. I didn't give you much warning on that one."

Karen lifted her head to lock her eyes with the red head's. "Honey. Of course I meant it."

_Impulse. It was always the fastest way to get to the truth. Grace knew it sounded like a reflex reaction, something that you would simply throw around in a situation like this. But that's not how she meant it. And it was a delicate situation to begin with; the first time she ever said it to Karen, it was the signal for the end. Now, to blurt it out so easily, seemed wrong. It should have been handled delicately, properly. They were starting over again, from square one. Those three words needed to be treated as though it was the first time she had ever said them, to Karen, to anyone. Because Karen was different than everyone else. Karen deserved more because she gave more. Karen deserved it all._

_She was above Karen now, the tables turned, hoping that she could give the dark haired woman even half of what was given to her. If she could fill the silence with action, the air wouldn't feel so heavy. She bent down to kiss Karen's skin, before she felt her lover's hands grace her cheeks, leading her up to hazel eyes. Those eyes, so intoxicating, demanding attention while at the same time being so grateful that you were there. Grace would have gotten lost in them if not for Karen's voice cutting the silence like a knife._

"_I love you, too," she said, with all of the genuineness Grace had been hoping for. "I haven't stopped."_

_It was then that she started to realize that all would finally be well._

Grace sat on the bed and watched Karen, back towards her, get dressed in clothes she found in the closet, some that the red head had forgotten to take with her when she moved in with Will. God, even the way she went about performing the simplest and most trivial tasks was flawless. Karen turned around and smiled before going back into the closet and passing Grace a change of clothes. She rested her knee on top of the mattress and leaned in, brushing her lips against Grace's. "Let's take the train into Chelsea and get some coffee," she murmured before getting back up again and walking downstairs.

The red head rushed to get dressed and run a brush through her hair. She looked at the wedding photo one last time before laying it face down on the dresser, freeing herself from what it stood for. Downstairs, she found Karen waiting by the door. Grace took her hand. "Let's go," she said softly, walking out of the apartment and into the Brooklyn morning.

If they had left five minutes later than they did, they would have run into Leo, who had come home one week early from Cambodia in a fit of broken optimism, hoping that he would be able to fix what he had destroyed with Grace.


	16. Everything That Comes After

_Then_

She knew Grace cared about it less and less as the days went on, but out of courtesy—or maybe out of routine—Karen stuck to her habit of waiting until the red head was out of the office to indulge herself. Out for a meeting with a client, Grace had left her to her own devices, and on a hot summer day, it meant that Karen had taken the bottle of vodka she had chilling in the mini fridge by the coffee maker, poured a splash of it in an empty coffee mug (a little midday drink never hurt anyone), and climbed through the window to the fire escape overlooking Mulberry with a pack of cigarettes and her lighter in her back pocket. She settled herself down on one of the metal stairs of the fire escape and set the mug down between her feet as she lit a cigarette and inhaled. But when she used to get her only satisfaction in succumbing to her vices, now she let the smoke curl from her lips and knew that she had everything she needed in the woman she woke up with this morning.

The city looked different, new. Even with her obstructed view, she looked out on Mulberry Street and saw it in a way that she had never seen it before. Maybe it was the fact that she was above everyone walking on the concrete—or maybe it was the fact that she could finally say that she was starting to forget the days she didn't fall asleep next to Grace—but she saw a peaceful metropolis thriving underneath her feet. She saw a lot of things in New York, but she never saw peace, she never saw a reason to stay; life with her mother meant moving from town to town, never becoming fully attached to anything or anyone. It led to a lonely life more often than not. And when she first set foot in Manhattan, the rules still applied, even when, on more than one occasion, someone had slipped a wedding band on her ring finger. It was a habit—like maneuvering her way through the window for a smoke and a drink—that she couldn't break.

But leave it to Grace to smash through that false notion.

Karen could see the orange glow of the cigarette from the corner of her eye and watched the cars speed by across the way on Houston, through a thin veil of smoke, stubbing the cigarette out on the metal when it burnt to the filter. She put her lips to her mug, her finger circling the small hole forming in her faded jeans, tracing the path that Grace's finger followed this morning after Karen let herself fall into the couch. _We could take the day off_, she said with a sly grin. _Go to Coney Island. It's not like you have to answer to anyone; you're your own boss._

Grace had knelt down to kiss her hand before her finger instinctively caught the tear in Karen's denim. _If I didn't have a meeting with an extremely important client today, I'd take you to the F train right now_. The red head had let her hand slide to Karen's stomach. _That doesn't mean we can't be a few minutes late_, she had murmured, and they savored the moments they had alone, before Will woke up for the day.

It was a perfect moment. Her life had been full of them lately. She wasn't used to this, but she welcomed it with open arms and a wish that it would never stop.

Now, she grabbed her pack of cigarettes, wanting to light one more up before she went back inside, when she heard the phone ringing through the open window. She picked her mug up from between her feet and scrambled inside, reaching the phone just before the fourth ring. "Grace Adler Designs," she said as she caught her breath.

"Karen? God, I'm so glad someone finally picked up. I've been trying for the last couple of days to get a hold of Grace. Is she there?"

She knew the voice on the other end of the phone. She just didn't want to believe it was true. She wanted to think that it was her mind playing tricks on her, or maybe it's a bad daydream, and she'll snap out of it soon. But she lived cynically enough to know better than to let herself believe a deception of her own creation. Still, she asked, if only to buy time, "Who is this?"

"Karen, it's Leo." The air left the room in an instant, but still he continued to speak. Of course; he wasn't the one whose happiness was being trampled on. "I just need to talk to her. I won't take long."

"She's out of the office, meeting with a client," she said defiantly. And then, before she could stop herself, her voice weakened. "Why can't you just let it go? Why are you still trying? She's happier now." _Because she's with me_, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue; she didn't want to make things worse for Grace. "She's moving on."

"I know. Believe me, I know. But I love her."

"So do I," she said under her breath, certain that he didn't hear her.

"I just…" He hesitated, and for a fleeting moment, Karen thought she had won. She thought he would back off, that he would leave her alone. She figured out that the incessant ring from Grace's cell phone was his doing; no one else was that desperate to get a hold of her. But she kept her mouth shut, knowing it would only put more stress on Grace, on their relationship. And Grace was still fully in this relationship, so she thought that she had nothing to worry about. This would be the moment he accepted defeat. But then… "Look, will you just tell her that I'm in New York? I got into Brooklyn two days ago. Tell her that I want to talk this out. We deserve to talk this out."

In that instant, Karen lost all power in her to form a response. She hung up the phone and rushed out the door, headed towards the only person she knew who had the potential to protect her from herself.

* * *

><p>"He's back in Brooklyn."<p>

"I know."

Will couldn't look at her for a moment after he responded, and let the low hum of activity outside of his office take control of the room. When he finally mustered the courage to look her in the eye, Karen looked fragile standing in the doorway, cracked, one small move away from shattering completely. "Will you at least sit down?" he asked gently. When she lowered herself in the chair across from him, he sighed. "He called me about an hour ago. He thought maybe she was here on her lunch hour. I told him I didn't know where she was, that he was probably wasting his time anyway, and that's when he told me to give her the message. I didn't know he was going to call her office, Kare. I'm so sorry. Honestly, I've been spending the time since then thinking of how I should tell you two."

She lowered her head, shifting her gaze down to her lap. Her voice was as small as a child's. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked.

The question killed Will; it was so small, so helpless, and maybe that's why it hurt so much to hear it come from Karen's lips. "I don't know if there's anything else you can do. Obviously, we have to tell her. Even if she doesn't want to see him, she needs to know that he's back in the States. And…" He didn't want to say it, because he knew she didn't want to hear it. But what good is pretending that reality isn't what it seems? "To be honest, they need to get together and talk, if only to confirm that it's over. She may be divorced in her mind, but she's not on paper. It's best to resolve it now and get it over with, so that she can break her ties with him once and for all."

"But what if she leaves me? What if she sees him after a summer apart and decides that she can overlook what happened in Cambodia? What if she decides to stay with him?"

Will leaned on his desk. "Karen, she's not going to do that."

"She did it last time, Will. There's something about him that she wants, something that she can't find in me. I don't know what it is, but it's not like I can change the way she feels. I can only walk away and pretend to move on. I know how this works. I've got experience. I just…I just don't want it to end."

Karen stood up like she was getting ready to leave. The truth was, she couldn't just sit there and let things slip away, but she had no idea what she could do to stop it, and became lost in her mind. So she stood there, in front of Will, waiting for something, anything, good or bad, because she knew that she had no control over any of it. And she hated that. God, how she hated it. She was so used to having everything go her way, to having the power to make things happen for her benefit, for her protection. But it was different now. She was in love with Grace, an occurrence she could not control as it happened. It was foolish of her to think she could control everything that came after.

When she came back to reality, she saw Will standing beside her, felt his hand on her shoulder. "I can't tell you what she's going to do," he said slowly. "But I can tell you that I've seen her with him, and I've seen her with you. I've seen how you are with her, and I want Grace to make the right decision. I want her to stay with you. But we have to tell her. It's wrong of us to keep it from her."

"Just give me one more night. Tomorrow, you can tell her everything, but please. Let me have tonight." Will nodded and drew her into his arms. It felt like he was only postponing the inevitable; he knew that nothing good will come from Leo's return—even if it's only a temporary effect, or if it sets Karen and Grace back a bit to have to push through the storm of divorce proceedings—but at the same time, he was Grace's husband. No matter what had happened this summer, or what Leo had done to set off this chain of events, they were still bound by a vow, even if it was on its last leg. But that didn't mean that he couldn't give Karen one night before everything turned sour. He wished he could give so much more, but this, this was a start.

It was the least he could do.


	17. Waiting For It

_Then_

The night she heard Leo's voice, Karen had the dream. She found herself on a train headed to a destination she didn't know (or maybe this was a train to nowhere), hand in hand with Grace in a car towards the back. They were the only ones in the car; they could have been the only ones on Earth. Outside the window, the landscape was a blur, glowing in the sunlight. She had never seen the day so bright before. Or maybe she just didn't notice; maybe it was only as bright as she felt, and god, she felt like she could light up the world with the red head by her side. Grace brushed her lips against Karen's and lingered, her body moving in closer to the dark haired woman's warmth. And then, out of nowhere, the voice that made Karen cringe.

"Grace?"

How did he get on this train? Karen pulled away from the red head and took her hand as she stood up, and when she looked through the window of the car door to see Leo walking towards them. She looked at Grace, who had a smile on her face like she didn't hear her husband call to her, like she didn't see him making his move. Karen lowered her voice. "Run with me," she murmured, and she watched as the red head's face grew serious. Grace nodded. And they took off.

The train seemed endless. Car after car, and Karen was losing her breath running through each one. But she looked back at Grace, who was powering through everything, and she knew that if the red head could endure this, she could too. No questions; Grace fully trusted the dark haired woman, despite Karen's self doubt. Each car they shot through was empty, and perhaps that's why Leo's voice grew louder. "Grace? Grace?" Karen knew they were getting nowhere, exerting themselves for nothing. But at least she knew that they had tried every option. They reached the final car, nowhere else to go, and Karen slid down to the floor, leaned her head against the wall. She felt Grace beside her, and as she rested her head on Karen's shoulder, the dark haired woman whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Grace?" His voice was louder than ever now. And there was that helpless feeling again. She watched as the door to their train car opened.

She woke up before she saw his face, and instead saw a weary Grace startled from sleep. "Babe, are you okay?" she asked in a sleep-heavy voice. It was amazing how easily the pet name rolled off her tongue. No one had ever called Karen that before, and if the worst happens, no one probably ever will again. And she knew that was why she hesitated for a moment before answering, as if to savor the moment before it's gone for good.

"Yeah," she murmured finally. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep, honey."

She wasn't about to be the one who pierced the skin of their relationship with Leo's homecoming. And she waited, but Will hadn't said anything that night. Or the night after. And after a week went by, Karen wondered if he had forgotten to mention it (which she knew couldn't be true; who could let something like this slip their memory?) or if he was giving this gift to her in a form of generosity she hadn't expected but would not question if it meant that she had more time with Grace.

And as the days went on, she started to think that she actually would have more time with the red head.

They decided to spend their Friday night in, blanket up to their necks—bundled up as if it was the end of Autumn rather than the end of Summer—as Karen wrapped her arms around Grace on the couch, lights dimmed. The glow of the television tinted Grace's hair a radiant blue that was actively and successfully fighting against her natural color, in a way that Karen found stunning. They had lost track of what was on TV, and frankly, they could have cared less. It was far more satisfying to hear the hum of Grace's voice, hear the steady rhythm of Karen's heartbeat.

Will stood there for a moment, studying the scene before him. He didn't want to disturb the peace that had been so carefully instilled in them, until Grace turned to face him and invited him to join them. He sat on the arm of the couch, as if he were watching over them, and in a way, he was. Keeping them from the inevitability of fate, protecting their idyllic little world. This is how it always should have been. This is how it always should be.

But things hardly ever work out as they should.

The three of them turned towards the door's direction when they heard a knock. With a furrowed brow, Will made his way over to answer it. But he obstructed Grace's and Karen's view of who was on the other side, and Will was talking to low to give them any clues. "It can't be Jack," Grace murmured into Karen's collarbone. "He would have barged his way in by now."

And then Karen heard it, that voice leaping out of her dream and into her reality. "Grace?" And as if it were a reflex, the red head immediately freed herself from Karen's arms and walked out into the living room to find Will by the fireplace, arms crossed and staring at Leo standing in the doorway.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Grace demanded.

"You wouldn't answer my calls," he said gently. "I was trying to let you know that I was back. Please, can we just talk? We need to sort things out. I'm dreading this as much as you are, but you know that we have to do this."

Karen sat on the edge of the couch, frozen in the moment. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Will never told Grace about Leo's return, he didn't tell Leo where to find her (although, truth be told, it wasn't that hard to figure it out), so this shouldn't be happening. And as much as she wanted to put a stop to it, to blurt out all the things that he didn't know—about she and Grace, about the summer, about the first time, about all of it—she couldn't find her voice. It wasn't until she felt Will's hand on her shoulder that she looked away from the scene to face him. She didn't even hear his footsteps, notice that he was walking towards her. He took her hand and started to lead her to his bedroom. "We should give them some time alone," he said.

"No," she whispered, her feet disregarding her heart. "Not now. Not now."

Before she walked into Will's bedroom, she took one last look at Grace. And the cold air about the red head where the warmth used to be sent a chill through her spine.

* * *

><p>"It's no use doing that. I'm not sure I really want to know what's going on out there."<p>

Will took his ear away from his door and turned to find Karen sprawled out on his bed and staring at the ceiling. "I can't really hear anything anyway," he said. He made his way over to the bed and sat down on the mattress, watching Karen. She looked blank, like what was going on in the living room of the Riverside apartment was of no importance to her. But he knew better. He knew this was just leftover instinct from her previous marriages. "I don't know what to say, Karen."

"There's nothing you can say. We just have to wait. What's done is done. I gave her everything I had. If she goes back to him, at least I know for sure that I could never be enough for her."

"Don't talk like that. You know how she feels about you. She can't deny that. You're just assuming the worst is going to happen."

"It's not like it's unprecedented."

Silence. What was the use of talking about it if it can't be controlled? Will lay back on the mattress so that his head brushed gently against Karen's, the two of them engaged in a sad city version of stargazing. Every once in a while, they could hear Grace's voice raise like a shot in the night, before going back down as she tried to remain as calm as she could. And then, without giving it a second thought, Karen started to speak.

"I could give her a good life, you know," she said softly without shifting her gaze from the ceiling. "Not the kind of life Stan gave me, or Lyle was prepared to give me, but I never really thought of that as the good life to begin with. I could give her a life that fit with who we are. Because she gives me a life that was always meant for me; I just had to wait for her to come along to get it. But god, Will. I will spend the rest of my life trying to give her half as much as she's given me. If she'll have me."

Will turned his head to look at Karen's profile, her lips in a tight straight line (an attempt to stop the tears before they show?) as she closed her eyes and let the hum of the city outside of his window take them over; Grace and Leo had stopped talking, or at least stopped yelling long enough for the Manhattan kind of quiet to take over. He couldn't think of anything to say to that, and even if he could, he knew that to break the silence they let hover over them would be disrespectful to the situation, to them. So he did the only thing he knew to do; he let his hand slide from his stomach and onto Karen's, weaving his fingers with hers in solidarity. And when he felt her head come to rest on his shoulder, he couldn't help but feel as though they were two people, helpless and patiently waiting for the end.

In one swift action, Grace opened the bedroom door and stood over the bed, her face hovering over Karen's. Her eyes were red from tears she had obviously dried before coming in. And in an even voice, she looked Karen straight in the eye and said, "Take me somewhere. Anywhere."

Without another word, Karen let go of Will's hand, got up from the bed, and led the red head out of the apartment. She hailed a cab downtown, not quite sure where she was going, not quite sure about anything anymore. Grace was silent the entire ride down to the Village, her head against the window of the back seat, staring at the blur of cars and people on the streets.

She wouldn't talk about what happened with Leo. And Karen couldn't figure out if it was a good thing or bad thing.


	18. I'm Not Gone

_"That woman, she's got eyes that shine  
>Like a pair of stolen polished dimes<br>She asked to dance, I said it's fine  
>I'll see you in the morning time."<br>~The Avett Brothers, "I and Love and You"  
><em>

_Then_

She couldn't help feeling like this was the last time they would dance.

Karen had started to lead them towards the F train, to go into Brooklyn, to their bar, to their jukebox that played The Cure and Patti Smith, and their booth and their usual drinks. But Brooklyn was no longer theirs. Brooklyn belonged to him now, and she wanted nothing to do with him right now; he inadvertently stole their escape from them. So when they got out of the cab she hailed, she led Grace into the first semi-dive she could find, something that could replace their home away from home. The place was dark, but seemed friendly enough. Karen ordered their drinks at the bar, followed Grace to the back corner of the place, and nursed her vodka with the red head in silence.

She wanted so badly to ask Grace what happened. She wanted so badly to know what she would be dealing with, where she stood now, anything. Because without some hint of the truth, Karen was helpless, powerless to her mind running wild with the worst possible scenario. She could barely get her drink to slide down her throat. She could feel the ball of tears lodged in there, and it wouldn't budge. But the moment was so fragile right now. And if it was to be their last, she didn't want to do anything to completely shatter it; if it was to be their last, she wanted it to end on as best a note as possible.

Grace stared straight ahead, stared at nothing, the solid blankness of her face saying everything and nothing at the same time. It was shock, it was all shock, Karen knew, that made her look this way. But the blank stare served as the red head's poker face. Maybe the fact that Grace wasn't saying anything meant that there truly was nothing to say, no startling revelations to be made, because nothing had changed in the red head's heart. Maybe being forced into a conversation with Leo, being forced to look him straight in the eye for the first time since he cheated on her, confirmed everything she had been saying, everything she believed in, this entire summer. Maybe he backed down quickly, realizing that there was no use in trying to change her mind, so nothing much had happened to begin with. Maybe it was just the fact that she didn't want to worry Karen with the details, because it was over now, and there was nothing else to be done.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Karen looked around the place. She didn't know who or what was controlling the music, and if she had it her way, she would have been able to switch what was playing now out for a more appropriate song. But nothing was going her way lately, and at this point, she didn't care that she would have to make do with what was given to her. She knew that it wouldn't be like the other times. She knew that there wouldn't be a sly play between them before they dashed off to the privacy of their own home—or the Brooklyn apartment—to spend the night in each other's arms. But if she could just hold Grace close enough to her chest, maybe the red head wouldn't slip away.

She grabbed in the dark for Grace's hand until she found it and let her fingers become entangled. "Grace," she said over the music and the conversation. "Dance with me."

For the first time all night, the red head's gaze shifted, became more focused once it settled on Karen. Grace offered her a half-smile. "Of course," she said in the brightest voice she could muster. The red head surprised herself by how convincingly okay she sounded. She was not fine. She would not be fine. But maybe holding Karen in her arms—maybe feeling the dark haired woman's skin on hers and feeling her heartbeat as they swayed and taking in the moment that was only theirs—would get her one step closer to fine. She took Karen by the hand, led her to the darkest corner of the bar and wrapped her arms around the dark haired woman's waist. And as she felt Karen's arms slide around her neck, she wanted to tell her everything. But she didn't want to ruin the moment.

Grace told Leo everything. She wasn't prompted, and he didn't hint at any potential indiscretions that occurred during the summer. But she knew that eventually, she would have to own up to what she had done; she did, after all, keep him on the phone in the midst of her tryst with Karen. So in a lull in their conversation, she set it free. "It wasn't just a random thing. It wasn't because we had both left our marriages and we could find comfort in each other, and it just turned into something more. I was with her two years ago. I was in love with her two years ago. I am now. And, if we're being honest…yeah, you were the reason that I left her the first time. You come waltzing into my life, and everything starts to blur, and I can't figure out which way to go. I should have stayed with her. But you. You were just so damn intriguing. I made a mistake. But she still loves me. I can't let that go again."

And instead of accepting defeat and walking away, he said, "I love you, too. That's why I'm here. I wouldn't have come over if I didn't think you were worth fighting for. I understand everything. I just…if you have one ounce of belief that we could clean up the mess I made, then tell me. Because I'm not getting over you any time soon. We can start over with a blank slate. But it's all up to you." She stood there for a minute after he left, absorbing everything, preparing herself for facing Karen and Will once again.

Leo had always thought that she could do no wrong. And now that she thought about it, Karen believed it too. The dark haired woman loved her enough to not only forgive the fact that she chose Leo over her, but to also take her back once again. At one point, she absolutely loved that about their relationship. Now, she wished that someone would place some blame on her, because the weightlessness of this was too much to bear. Grace was the common denominator in all of this. It was her fault. But everyone else was ignoring the truth.

She just wasn't sure if she could anymore.

"I don't know what I could have possibly done to deserve you," she murmured, for a moment not realizing she had said it out loud. She knew that at this point, she was doing Karen more harm than good; the dark haired woman had been the one to promise not to hurt Grace, but the red head knew that she had to keep that promise for Karen as well. And if she didn't have closure with Leo, she knew that she would continue to hurt her, hurt them. She was stuck, and had no clue how to start moving again.

It took Grace a while to notice, but when she finally did, she realized that they had stopped swaying, had stopped dancing altogether, and simply stood there in each other's arms, in silence while the music played and the other people in the bar went about their business, paying no attention to the women in the back. They weren't done yet, they couldn't be; they had no intention of stopping, and even though Grace had a constant feeling of uneasiness since she started getting calls from Leo, she was doing everything in her power to not let it affect Karen.

So why did it feel like it they were nearing the end?

Suddenly, the red head felt a drop land on her bare shoulder, a sniffle coming from Karen as the dark haired woman's back jumped in an attempt to catch her breath. Grace ran her hand through Karen's hair and kissed her temple, trying her damnedest to hold back tears of her own. And in her ear, she heard Karen whisper, the broken voice almost shattering her. "Just promise me you'll be there in the morning."

That was it. That was what did it. Grace felt the hot sting of tears streaming down her face, and she was just grateful that they were not the focus of attention in this place while they were essentially conducting a funeral that shouldn't be conducted. Grace tightened her hold on the dark haired woman and closed her eyes as she felt the warmth of Karen's body radiating off of her, said the only thing that she could possibly say at this moment.

"I'm not gone."

_Yet_. It wasn't said, but Karen couldn't help but instinctively add the thought.

"Maybe we should go home," the dark haired woman murmured into Grace's ear. "I don't know if I'll do this well in public for much longer." Grace's hold on Karen slid from her waist to her hand as she slowly guided them out of the bar. New York City speeded past them in the cab, still moving, always moving, even when you don't want to. Even when you wished it would stop. Karen stepped out of the car once it reached the Riverside apartment, feeling as though even the solid ground beneath her feet wasn't solid enough, and made her way to the bedroom in 9C she shared with the red head to change.

When she walked back into the living room, she couldn't find Grace anywhere. In a frantic fleeting moment of feeling as though her prophecy had come true, she looked back to Will's bedroom door. He was probably asleep, but maybe he wouldn't mind if she stayed with him for a little while. She didn't want to be alone tonight. But then, faintly, she heard the music coming from the terrace, that music that has tied her to the red head since the beginning of their connection. Karen wasn't sure if it was a false reassurance or a genuine one, but she knew she was going to take it all the same.

Grace was lying on her back against the cushions and pillows she had stolen from the sofas as Billie Holliday sang about how she would get by as long as her lover was by her side. She looked at Karen standing above her, and couldn't help but crack a sad smile; in spite of the tears, and in spite of the mess she had made, the dark haired woman's eyes still shone—they were still the brightest things Grace had ever seen. She gently pulled Karen down to the ground and burrowed into the dark haired woman's arms, unable to speak (but then again, maybe words would ruin the moment). Trying to channel better days had left her weary, exhausted, but still fighting. And with the traffic humming below, they listened to Billie sing, hoping to preserve the old feeling. They fell asleep there against the Manhattan night, Grace's head resting against Karen's chest, waiting silently for another day.


	19. This Is Not Your Home

_Then_

"What are you doing here?"

Karen scoffed when Will's words pierced through her at the doorway. "First of all, hello to you, too. Second, I should be asking you that question. What does it matter what I'm doing here? This is my home."

"Grace came into my room around midnight, worried and on the verge of tears because you didn't come home tonight. This may be your house, but this isn't your home." He made his way past her feeble barricade and found himself in the foyer of Karen's Park Avenue penthouse. There had always been something dark and cold about this place to Will, but until now, he just shrugged it off as something that came along with socialite living; he wasn't a part of this circle, so how was he supposed to know how the other side lived? But now, as he saw her in a silk nightgown instead of one of the oversized t-shirts he had grown accustomed to seeing her in, he realized what it was. This place was where her happiness came to die. "She said you weren't answering your phone. What is going on, Karen?"

"I'm surprised you don't already know. Doesn't she tell you everything?" She sighed, muttered an "I'm sorry" and made her way into the living room. "When we were in your room, while they were talking it out? Remember what I said? It was all based on experience. I knew it was going to happen again, because it happened before. To think otherwise would have been foolish."

Will sat down beside her on the sofa. "So you're just going to stay here, where you know you're not happy, because you think history is going to repeat itself? You're going to cut yourself off from her, which while it probably seemed like an easy task, is pretty damn impossible given your circle of true friends."

"Will, you don't understand any of it. Do you realize how much this is killing me to walk away from this? But I just can't do this again. I went into this thinking I wouldn't have to. Maybe it was stupid of me, but it's not like I can go back and change it."

He looked at her, saw the sadness in her eyes and wanted nothing more than to make it all go away. He waited until she looked him in the eye to speak. "Tell me what happened."

* * *

><p>The silence between them in the office was overwhelming, which despite the quiet way they ended last night grew more and more unnerving. Karen had her nose buried in the book of poetry she bought when Grace first caught her in Brooklyn. If anything, it was a distraction from the bad thoughts running wild in her mind. They hadn't said anything to each other when they woke up in the morning; they simply put the couch cushions back in their place and dressed for work. Every once in a while, Karen could feel Grace's eyes on her from across the room; she could feel the weight of Leo's presence heavy on both of them. And then, suddenly, the red head couldn't take the silence between them anymore.<p>

"I need closure, Karen."

Karen looked up from her book. "Is that some sort of code for what I really think is going to happen?" she asked. She didn't need to say out loud what she thought; they both knew. They both always knew.

"No. I don't know. You can't tell me that you wouldn't be confused if it was your husband coming back instead of mine."

"I know the way I feel about you trumps the way I feel about anything. It trumps the way I felt about Stan even when I thought I loved him with my entire being. It certainly trumps the way I felt about Lyle. I know that when I'm with you, I'm safe. And I've never felt fully safe in my life. I know that I wouldn't give that up. But I'm not you, Grace. I don't know what it is about him that you love so much, even when he's cheated on you. And I'm sure I'm never going to find out. But that doesn't mean that that charm, or whatever you want to call it, isn't there." She turned her gaze from the red head to the book, which lay closed on her desk as she ran her finger along the cover.

Grace stared at Karen for a moment, willing her to look up. But when she realized she wouldn't, she sighed. "That's not fair. Okay, so maybe you realized a little too late that Stan wasn't right for you. But when he went away to prison, you didn't know what to do with yourself at first. And when you found out he was sleeping with Lorraine, you know that a part of you was shattered; it doesn't matter that you had been with me up until then. You spent so many years with him as his wife. Whether or not you wanted it to, that became a little piece of you, and when it was gone, you were at a loss. Maybe you never got to get the closure you wanted because of Stan's death, but I still have a chance to get mine."

"So what are you going to do, Grace? Call him up, meet him for dinner? And then after you've spent all of ten minutes getting the closure you want, you find yourselves with nothing to talk about but the good times you've had together. You'll get swept up in the memories and realize that maybe you can forgive what he did to you, even though you know deep down you shouldn't."

"I didn't ask him to dinner!" Grace's eyes grew like a deer in the headlights after she blurted that out. This wasn't how she wanted to tell Karen. But she knew that she would have to see Leo again, if only to talk things out in a more civilized manner. They didn't even begin to scratch the surface of their issues, and she knew that she wouldn't be truly happy until everything was settled. But before she could explain, she saw Karen's gaze lift to her eyes and found herself unable to speak for a fleeting second.

"Oh my god," Karen murmured. "You already saw him. This is what this is all about, isn't it? This is two years ago all over again, just thinly veiled as your attempt to get closure."

"No, god, Karen, I wouldn't do that again. I hate myself for doing it the first time. I called him in the morning while you were on your way out to hail a cab. I said that maybe we should meet for coffee or something to talk it out, in a public place so we're not at each other's throats. I wanted to let you know that I was going to meet him in SoHo sometime today. I just…I know I can't give myself fully to you until I can shake off the part of me that still thinks of myself as his wife."

"Is that why you never took off your ring?"

Grace looked down at the band on her left ring finger. "Maybe," she said quietly. "I told him about us, and he doesn't fault me for it. Maybe I should hear him out. You've always told me that you just want me to be happy. I'm trying…I'm trying to figure out what happy is for me."

"Does he make you happy?"

Silence. But that was all that Karen needed.

"That's it. Right there. That is why I don't like where this is going. That hesitation, that consideration. I do want you to be happy, Grace. I've always wanted that. And when you told me that he made you happy, I learned to be fine with it. But he's hurt you now, you both have disregarded your wedding vows. You'd think that that would be enough to get you to end it with him for good. But maybe I'm not the authority on this sort of thing."

"I'm not ready to lose you again."

"Well, I'm not ready to watch you run into his arms again. I get the confusion. I get that part of you that still feels like you're his wife. I get all of that. I've felt all of that. It's all a delusion though; that's what I've eventually come to realize. Maybe you just need to figure that out on your own. And I don't think you're going to be able to do that with me hanging around." She started to get up despite the red head's protest, grabbed the cigarettes off of her desk and the purse she had beside her chair.

"Karen…"

"I just need to get some air." And with that, she was gone. She walked up to Broadway, going through two cigarettes in the process, before taking the subway uptown to the Riverside apartment. When she walked in, she was alone, the silence almost mocking her as she took a look around the place. This was supposed to be it. This was supposed to be her home. But when it comes to her life, nothing is as it's supposed to be.

She packed what little of her belongings she had in 9C and hailed a cab for Park Avenue without looking back, knowing that it was just her luck that she would have to be relegated back to the stiffness of the life she lived for so long.

* * *

><p>"So that's it? That's how you're going to leave it? She thinks you two are done. Although I guess the fact that your stuff is gone made it a pretty fair assumption."<p>

"Well, what else am I supposed to do, Will?"

"Look, it's your life. I can't tell you what to do with it. I just thought you would have had more fight in you than that. If you love her like you say you do, I would think that you wouldn't just let her slip away." And after a promise that she would call him in the morning, Will kissed her on the cheek and headed back to Riverside Drive.

He was right. She knew he was. You can't help but grow from the experiences you have. You can't help but learn. Last time, she let Grace go. Last time, she felt helpless. Well. She still felt helpless. But this time, she was not going to walk away from this until she had the final word. Karen grabbed her cell phone, ignored the missed calls and voicemails that were obviously from Grace, and shot off a text to the red head.

_Come find me in Brooklyn. I won't be hard to find._


	20. Last Kiss

_Then_

She couldn't tell if the reason she was the only one in this subway car was because of the late hour, or because this was some ridiculous sign from the universe about what was to come. It was probably the former, but if she were the betting kind, she would put her money down on the latter.

Grace closed her eyes and leaned her head against the metal of the car. It was amazing how everything can change so drastically in such a short amount of time. Two days ago, everything was fine. Two days ago, Leo was still gone to her, she had no restraints. Two days ago, the only thing that concerned her was how she would spend her night with Karen, and even that wasn't a grave concern; as long as she was with the dark haired woman, nothing else mattered. Two days ago, it was easy. She wanted to go back.

But this train, this life, kept moving forward.

This much she knew for sure: she was in love with Karen. On some level, she had never completely fallen out of love with Leo. It would have been cold of her to lose all feeling for him, and she shouldn't be expected to do so. Part of her can't help but hang on to what she once had with him. But now that she had this relationship with Karen, she finds herself wanting to let go of her marriage. The problem was that she was physically and mentally unable to do this. At least, she thought, until she had a civilized talk with Leo about where they stood with each other. But then she had that talk. And it made her more confused than ever.

They had met in a coffeehouse in SoHo after Karen walked out of the office that day. She found him sitting by himself with that damn optimistic smile on his face like he wanted everything to be okay with them. She wished she could have been as calm inside as he seemed to be. But deep down, she was just a lost child looking for home, and she had reached a fork in the road. And it didn't help that Karen was half-right with her prophecy. They may not have been out to dinner together, but as soon as she laid all her issues out on the table, and as soon as he seemingly put them to rest with one simple statement ("Look, I can't take back what I did, but I can promise you I will never do it again. And I can promise you that I will do everything I can to make it up to you. I'm just as nervous as you are. But at least we wouldn't be going through this alone."), they fell into that old pastime of recalling memories of better days ("Remember that day in Riverside Park…"). Grace wished she could say otherwise, but she had to admit that she fell for it a little.

But then she came home, and although Karen wasn't there, she became overwhelmed by the flood of memories she had made with the dark haired woman in the Riverside apartment. Waking up in bed next to her in the mornings. Listening to the mix of Billie Holiday recordings and the city life below them on the terrace. Studying the way the glow of the television highlighted Karen's features in the most beautiful way. And she couldn't figure out whether or not it was due to the fact that these memories were the most recent ones, but she found that they overpowered the ones she had with Leo, however slightly. That frustratingly present fact reared its ugly head once again; she had no idea where to turn.

Grace opened her eyes, found herself near the final stop on the line. She never meant to break her wedding vows. And now that she essentially had, the guilt was too much. She was never this type of person. That alone made her want to work it out with Leo. But she was almost certain that her heart was for Karen. Almost.

The train slowed to a stop at the end of the line, Coney Island. She knew that when Karen sent her that text, she was talking about the beach. This place spooked her this late at night. She rushed to the beach as quickly as she could, recalling what she had always been told about Coney Island not being the safest place at night, and realized she had no idea where on the sand she was supposed to meet Karen. She had silently succumbed to the dark haired woman's wishes, racing out the door without a second thought. When Karen didn't come home, Grace wondered if she had already made up her mind about their fate. Grace wondered if any retaliation, any feeble reasoning as to why she should stay, would even work. But most of all, Grace was worried that she might have been hurt, and no one knew. And when she got Karen's text, she was just relieved that the dark haired woman was alive and presumably well, at least on a physical level. But now, in the darkness with only the sound of the waves crashing to keep her company, she was searching for someone who might not even be there. But after a few moments of looking wildly around the sand, she saw a figure by the shoreline, and made her way towards it.

"Are you insane?" Grace wasn't expecting this to be the first thing she said. Hell, she wasn't expecting to say it at all. But then again, the past couple of days had gone completely against her expectations. "It's late; don't you think we could have met someplace a little safer?"

Karen turned around, the wind whipping her hair in every direction as she looked at Grace. "But this place was ours," she said quietly, the sound of the waves almost carrying it away before the red head had a chance to hear it.

Grace couldn't help but notice the phrasing. This _was_ their place. Was. The red head's heart sank to her stomach and hoped that her voice wouldn't reflect it. "I don't know why you called me out here, but I just wanted to…"

"Why is it never truly our turn?" Karen didn't mean to interrupt her, but she knew that if she didn't speak now, she might lose the nerve. "Every time we try this, it's like we've jumped the queue. Someone's always standing in the way. I was never good at timing. But I wanted this to be different. And it was different this time. Leo cheated on you; any self-respecting woman would leave him because of that. I divorced Lyle as quickly as I flew to Vegas to marry him. We didn't have to worry about anything. And goddammit, Grace…I was the happiest that I have ever been in my life. Do you realize that? I have spent my days searching for something solid, something I can depend on. I've been searching for something that would finally give me the things that have been missing. And then the first time around, I find it in you. But I'm not like everyone else who loses it. I got another change. I got it back. And I thought it was for good this time. But it's not going to work. I think we both know that."

"Karen, I don't understand."

The dark haired woman slid her hand into the red head's for a moment before letting it fall to her side. "It's never going to be our time until you're over him. And I know that you're not over him. It's why you're still wearing your ring. It's why you met him for coffee today. It's why I didn't come back to your apartment tonight. Until you get over him, we're not going to be able to do this. I can't be with someone who is thinking about someone else. I just can't do that again." She hesitated for a moment, and wondered if Grace could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm not mad at you. I've never been mad at you. You have to know that. Disappointed, maybe. Heartbroken, definitely. But I've been through this before. I can get through it again if I have to. You're right. I know what it's like to be caught between someone you promised yourself to, and someone you want to promise yourself to. I know how hard it is to make that choice. But I can't be just an option when I've been the choice for this long. This isn't what I came here to say, but I think…I think this is the way it has to be."

"What did you want to say?"

"Does it matter now?" Maybe it did matter. Because deep down, Karen wanted to fight. She wanted to fight harder than she's ever fought for anything before. But there was no way she could fight for this, at least not in the way she wanted to. If there was even an ounce of Grace still holding on to Leo, she knew that it would be pointless to act like the red head's heart was one hundred percent for her. Will was right; she did have fight in her. But there was a time and a place, and this was neither.

Grace stepped closer to Karen when she felt the hot sting of tears stream down her cheeks. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I swear. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't…"

And in a fit of fearlessness, Karen pressed her lips against the red head's, not quite sure if the tears she tasted were Grace's or her own. It was crazy, and quite possibly pointless—she knew this—but to be here and not put some effort into the fight suddenly seemed foolish. So she decided that once she pulled away, Grace had two options; the red head could say that she's done with Leo, that that's what she wanted to say before Karen cut her off, or she could stay silent, and the dark haired woman would have the answer that she was dreading. It made her want to linger in the kiss forever. It made her never want to let go. And for a while, Grace settled into it, relaxing her body against Karen's, staying there for as long as Karen would have her. But this was all just a delusion, this was all an attempt to trick themselves into believing that everything would be all right. And delusions could not last forever.

Karen finally, reluctantly, pulled away, and looked into Grace's wet eyes. She could see their history in those eyes, and for a moment wondered how long it would take before she wouldn't anymore. She wondered how long it would take before she saw Grace the way she did before all of this started, if she ever would see her that way again. She waited for the red head's words. Hoped for them. But…

Silence. That was how she knew she had her answer.

"Go be with your husband," she said. It wasn't clipped, it wasn't short. It wasn't an attempt to get one last jab in at her before she left. It was a genuine request. It was a surrender. It was accepted defeat. "I'll see you around."

And then she was gone.


	21. Load The Car, Write The Note

_"Load the car and write the note  
>Grab your bag and grab your coat<br>Tell the ones that need to know  
>We are headed north."<br>~The Avett Brothers, "I and Love and You"_

_Now_

When I saw you tonight, you looked like nothing happened. You looked like you didn't kiss me in Coney Island last night, like we didn't spend hours drinking coffee in Chelsea or dancing during alcohol-fueled nights in Brooklyn dive bars. You looked like you erased this summer. But even worse than that, you looked like you had erased the first time we were together as well. The outfit you put together looked new, although that could have just been because I was so used to seeing you in torn jeans and tank tops that I forgot how you looked in Prada and Gucci. You stood by Jack and indulged him by letting him see the image of you that he was used to, instead of the one the rest of us have known and loved (although, if you were to show him who you truly were, apart from the money and the socialite status, I know he would love you). But the thing that broke me the most was that when I walked in with Leo, you gave me the look I had been dreading, the look that acted like I hadn't known every inch of your body, caressed every inch of your skin. The look that acted like we were nothing more than co-workers who had achieved a slight level of friendship.

It was a cold slap in the face. And I deserve it.

The only reason I called this dinner so quickly was because I was willing to do anything to make this pain go away as fast as possible. And if that meant jumping right into a perceived normal with Leo, then that's what I had to do (this apparently also meant that I would gather a bag of my belongings, transfer them from the Riverside apartment—my home—to Leo's and play house like everything was all right). I didn't even know you were going to be there; I hadn't called you to let you know this was happening, I thought it was far too soon for us to walk on the old path like we had both easily gotten over what was between us (I will never get over it, but I can only speak for myself). So maybe Will talked to you. Maybe Jack mentioned it and you didn't want him to ask questions as to why you weren't going to be there for your friend. But as much as I wanted to see you again, to see you in this situation, to see you the way you looked, was harder than I ever anticipated.

I don't know what was worse: the fear that you would make a scene at dinner—and I realize that this requires some conceited element of my being at this point—or the fact that you said nothing at all. You had done all your fighting in that kiss last night, and you thought you lost. So what was the point of starting something now? And in the end, Will picked up your slack, stating the obvious and dragging you further into it than I knew you wanted to be; Jack was sitting next to you, after all, and I knew that now you would be saddled with two years worth of explanation that you didn't want to give. But god, Will's words are still ringing in my ears ("I can't just sit here pretending like everything's fine when you would rather patch things up with a man who has hurt you in the past—and will probably do it again—than to be with the woman sitting across from you who has given you everything you could possibly want or need. It's your life, Grace, and you can do with it what you will. But I can't watch this anymore. Karen, I'm sorry that I tried to go along with this charade." All before he left the restaurant with Leo looking down at his lap and Jack with an expression on his face that cannot be described).

He was right to storm off, you know (of course you know). I always had that feeling, but sitting down to that dinner solidified it. As much as he couldn't stand watching this pathetic show that was obviously not going to end well, I couldn't stand being the principal actor in it. I spent all day with Leo today, and I realized what rebuilding our life together would mean. It would mean an uneasy feeling when he goes off into the city alone. It would mean wanting to question him endlessly about where he's been and knowing that it would come off sounding insane. It would mean swallowing the fact that he broke his promise to me every time it comes back up. It would mean trust that could never be mended, and knowing that that is what I'd have to live with until death do us part.

It would mean looking at him and wishing he were you. Because that's all I've done tonight.

Before he went to bed, Leo told me that it didn't matter what anyone else thought; what truly mattered is what we thought, and I couldn't figure out if the "we" meant as a couple or individually—he and I. Because if he meant the both of us, collectively, he had more optimism than he should. I couldn't bring myself to end it just then. He looked so damn hopeful that even though any love for him was now gone, I didn't want to see the look in his eyes change so dramatically. Which, when you think about it, is a sad turn of events. This man hurt me in one of the worst ways possible, and you'd think that would give me a clean conscience to return the favor, to tell him to his face that he lost me forever all because of a lapse of judgment. But I just couldn't do it. As much as I wanted to, the words wouldn't come. They were jumbled in my mind, so much I wanted to say but didn't know how. But standing alone on the sand in Coney Island, taking in the lifelessness of everything that was once so vibrant to be because you were there to share it, I realized that I didn't need to be so verbose. Everything could be said in a few simple words. Or written down, anyway.

Back in the Brooklyn apartment, I packed everything that I brought with me when I made the swift exit from the life I was living over the summer (and a few things I left when I made the swift exit from married life a few months ago), as soon as I walked in through the door. I know he's still asleep; when we were married, he barely noticed when I got out of the bed in the middle of the night, so what makes me think that anything I do now will wake him up? My bags are by the door, and as much as I wanted to leave him without any warning, I know I have to at least give him something.

Walking to the bedroom, I'm suddenly brought back to the first time you and I were alone here, after getting close to the tune of "Just Like Heaven." And I know I'm about to do what you did that night. But there's a difference. You were doing it out of respect for the person who was sleeping in the bed. I was doing it for my sanity. I look at him now, and all I see some random woman who is faceless but you know she's gorgeous all the same. I can never un-see her, and it makes me even more positive that I'm doing the right thing.

I find a notebook on the nightstand that I know must be his, and for a moment I want to look through it to see what he's written. If there's anything in it about her, about me, about what he was thinking when he was in Cambodia. But what good will that do me now? He's already done it; knowing the thought process behind his actions won't make things any better. I rip the last page out and pick up the pen that was lying next to the notebook. And then I write down the only thing he needs to know.

_I can't do this._

Maybe this time he woke up. Maybe he saw the note just after I walked out the door. Maybe he thought he still had time to catch me before I was gone. Maybe he was wondering if it was worth it to try. But I don't know. The cab just pulled up and I'm loading my belongings in the back.

I probably never will know.

But I think that's how I like it.

* * *

><p>I've got a plan, and I really think that it will work. I believe it will, so it has to (all I've got left is childish faith. Forgive me).<p>

As much as I wanted to tell the driver to speed towards Park Avenue, I knew that I couldn't just show up at your door with my bags at my feet and pick up right where we left off. I'm not that foolish. There has been damage done, and I know it's on me to fix it; I am the one that caused it to begin with. But I know I can fix it. I saw it in your eyes last night. You can't get over things that quickly. And I hope you don't resist me.

The cab pulled up to the Riverside apartment, and I felt my heart drop. I was almost afraid to go back in. Will seemed angrier about what I've done than you were, so how exactly was I supposed to tell him that this was all for nothing, like everyone knew it would be? I stood on the concrete sidewalk for a few minutes after the cab took off again, and thought for a moment about how I could put this off. But the fact of the matter is this: I don't know if you're willing to have me, and until I know, I have no place to stay if I didn't go in there right then. Take a deep breath, Grace. Face the music.

I stood at the door of 9C for a moment before I knocked on the door, softly, pathetically. After all that's happened, I wasn't sure if I should consider this my home, if I should just use the key and let myself in. I heard nothing coming from the other side of the door and was certain that Will was fast asleep. But just before I started to make my way across the hall to see if Jack would let me sleep on his couch tonight, the door opened, and I heard a quiet, "Gracie?" I haven't heard anyone call me that since the last time it spilled from your lips. It made me want to burst into tears on the spot. He could never say it in the perfect way you do. And before my entire being is overwhelmed with this feeling, I murmured the only thing I can think of.

"I messed up. You were right."

He took me in, wrapped me in his arms. He didn't make me feel like the bad guy, the person I've been making myself out to be lately. There was no judgment, no "I told you so." I had made this out to be much worse in my head, when in actuality, I perhaps should have been focusing on what would happen when I see you again. But that's where my head is at now. That's where it will continue to stay until the moment happens.

Now, I'm in my bed, but it is no longer mine. It is ours. It belongs to you just as much as it belongs to me. It has been at least an hour and a half since I heard Will close the door to his bedroom, and I know that he's asleep by now. I don't need him interfering in this, and I am too determined to let it wait until morning. I need to see you. Regardless of whether or not you want to see me, this is something that will stay with me like an insatiable hunger, because deep down, that's basically what it is. Your kiss…I can't stop thinking about your kiss—not only the one you planted on my lips last night, but also every one you gave me since we first started this journey two years ago. I can't stop thinking about your laugh, that special one that seemed to only come about for me. I can't stop thinking about your touch, your eyes, your love.

I can't stop thinking about you.

And in a fit of nostalgia, I take this time to sneak out of the apartment, sliding past Will, on the way to Park Avenue.


	22. For Never To Return

_"One foot in and one foot back  
>But it don't pay to live like that<br>So I cut the ties and I jumped the track  
>For never to return."<br>~The Avett Brothers, "I and Love and You"  
><em>

_Now_

"How come you never told me?"

"Because the first time, it was way too complicated, Jack. I didn't even know what it was half the time. And I certainly didn't know that Will knew about us until he started talking to me at the wedding. All I knew is that I wanted it, and I would do whatever it takes to make sure that I kept it; but that meant that I had to keep it a secret. We didn't know how you or Will would react, and we didn't want to tell anyone until we had the situation figured out. Now…I don't know, maybe we didn't want to jinx it. But you've seen how that ended up. And I knew that if I told you now, I would have to tell you about everything before this. I'm sorry, Jack. I know I can trust you. I just didn't know how much I could trust myself and my own intuition."

"Maybe I could have helped you."

The way the silence overcame the Park Avenue penthouse was almost too much for Karen to bear. Jack had shown up at her door about twenty minutes after she came home. She wasn't sure if he was just giving her some time to herself before he intervened, or if it really took him twenty minutes to decide that he should check up on her. Part of her was annoyed, if she had to be honest; the mere thought of trying to explain away two years of secrecy was exhausting to her. But she was mostly relieved that Jack rang her doorbell. She knew that after everything that took place at the restaurant, she did not want to be alone tonight. Now, she took a look around the library—the place where, two years ago, her fate with the red head took off running—before returning her gaze back to her friend with a sigh. "I was never fit for this, Jackie. The penthouse, the status. Any of it. It just fell into my lap and I went along with it for so long that it became who I was. I should have never let it get this far. But she was the one who finally made it okay for me to be who I really am."

"You know…I don't think I've ever seen you completely and unconditionally happy. You always put that smile on, and you laugh when you think you should. And everyone else accepts it, and so you think it's okay. I don't know how I missed seeing you leave Will and Grace's apartment. I don't know how I missed seeing you with her. I just know that when I did see you, you were lighter than I've ever remembered. When you said you were fine, you meant it. And I didn't know what was going on, but I wasn't going to question it; as long as everything was real, it was good enough for me. I didn't need to know. But you shouldn't give up so easily."

"What else can I do, Jack? If we're ever going to make this work, she has to resolve her feelings for Leo. I can't fight for something that isn't there."

"It's there. She obviously wasn't happy tonight. She knew she made a mistake. Maybe you never looked her in the eye tonight long enough to realize it, but it's there." He stopped for a moment, took in the image of the woman sitting next to him. Suddenly, she looked wrong in what she was wearing, like she was playing make believe in a ridiculous costume but telling everyone to refer to her as the character she created. Because that's what she had been doing all along; but instead of a child acting out a fantasy, she had been a woman playing this out for survival. He wanted to see her as she truly was. He wanted to see how she acted when she was with Grace, how she moved, how she looked when she laughed. He probably never heard a genuine laugh from Karen in all the years he had known her, and he would love to know what that sounds like. "I bet you two were fantastic together," he said, not realizing he had said it out loud until Karen shot him a surprised look.

"Fantastic," she said after a moment of silence, "but not unstoppable."

Jack looked around the penthouse, this place he had spent so much of his time in. He knew this place like the back of his hand, and he always thought of it as a palace; it was his playground, his entrance to a world that was too expensive for his means, but he had come to love all the same. He never considered that fact that it could be hurting the one who acted as the gatekeeper, his guide to life on the other side. And now that Karen's sadness is all that he could see, he felt the air in this place for what it really was: cold—freezing, even—and unwavering. This was no place to live. This was no home. "You shouldn't stay here tonight," he said. "It's only going to make things worse. Why don't you come home with me? I'll make up the bed for you, and I can take the couch. It's got to be a warmer place than this."

"That's right across the hall from Will and Grace. Jackie, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't know if I could handle the fact that she would only be a few feet away right now. But…you'll still stay here tonight, right? I could really use someone to stick around."

"Of course I'll stay tonight. But regardless of where you're sleeping, at least get out of those clothes and put something on you feel comfortable in." He gave her a smirk in hopes of lightening the mood. "You're not fooling anyone anymore."

At this, Karen laughed. It sounded different this time. Maybe because of the heaviness of the situation. Or maybe because this time it was real. "Thank god," she said with a small smile. She stood up and started heading for the door when she turned on her heels to face him once more. "You're not just going along with all of this because it's appropriate for the moment, are you? If I move away from who you've always known to be, I won't lose you too?"

"All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy. I never looked past the surface, so I always thought that you were always happy. I love you no matter what, Kare. I'm not going anywhere." He stood up to wrap Karen in his arms, felt her grip tighten as much as it could before he let her go. As she left for her closet, Jack put out the fire that Karen had started in the fireplace before making his way down the stairs.

Karen walked into the closet that Stan had helped her build over the years. She scoffed at the sight, disgusted by the space, the things she had acquired over time; normal people in the city live in apartments slightly bigger than this. She had become a product of excessive living, and she hated the fact that she let it go this far. She wasn't always like this—deep down, she never was—and now that she lost the one person that gave her the motivation to change her ways, she was slowly starting to miss the point. But now Jack knew. Jack would help her get back on track. Jack wouldn't care if she stripped herself of her Prada, if she scaled down her living space. Hell, he would likely encourage all of it, as long as it was what she wanted to do. So while she may have lost her love affair with a gorgeous red head who caught her eye, she will not lose her true self.

The bags she packed when she left the Riverside apartment had been in the middle of the closet, left untouched since she moved back into the Park Avenue penthouse. She unzipped the first one, found books swimming among the fabric and fished around until she found the last thing she wore before she ended things with Grace on Coney Island. She pulled a plain white t-shirt out of the bag, put the fabric to her nose. It still smelled like Grace's perfume (she remembered it vividly, although that wasn't much of a feat; Karen had run out of her own, and borrowed the red head's. She remembered Grace coming up from behind and wrapping her arms around her waist, putting her nose to the curve of Karen's neck and shoulder. "I love the way it smells on you," she murmured. It was a quiet moment, a quick one, but Karen saw no reason to stop holding onto it). She took off her blouse and exchanged it for the t-shirt, digging for a pair of jeans before coming up with a particularly well-worn pair. She took a look at herself in the mirror; god, she looked so out of place in this home. It's about time her outside appearance caught up with her inner being.

Karen made her way quietly downstairs before she found Jack in the living room with his back towards her, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses. Softly, so as not to startle him, she said, "Don't laugh."

Putting the bottle down, he turned to face her, his eyes growing wide at the sight of her transformed appearance. "Oh, my god," he said breathlessly. "You are stunning." And at the sound of her laugh, he continued, "I'm serious, Karen. You look natural. You look comfortable"—he let a smirk crawl across his face for that one in a slight joke that was rooted in the truth—"you look like yourself. I can't wait to get to know this side of you."

And for the first time since she left Grace on the sand, Karen's smile became big and uncontrollable. She took a seat next to Jack and picked up a glass of wine. "If I ever start to slip back into this," she swept her arm out to the penthouse, "even a little bit, please shake me back into reality. This place has nearly crushed my soul, and I won't go back again." She clinked her glass to his and took a sip.

"I highly doubt you ever have to worry about that," he said as he took her hand for a moment. She would be fine, he knew. And he knew that deep down, she knew this as well. There were no more secrets. There was no more effort to hide what should be public. Maybe she didn't have her love. But at least she had her life.

They sat in a peaceful silence until they heard a knock on the front door.

With a sigh, Karen stood up and made her way to the door. "Don't people realize how late it is?" she asked.

And as she heard Jack call a "Who is it?" out loud to her back, Karen opened the door to find Grace on the other side, wearing what the dark haired woman had last seen her in, wringing the bottom of her dress nervously in her hands.


	23. All Exits Look The Same

_"Dumbed down and numbed by time and age  
>Your dreams that catch the world the cage<br>The highway sets the traveler's stage  
>All exits look the same.<em>

_Three words that became hard to say  
>'I' and 'Love' and 'You'<br>'I' and 'Love' and 'You'  
>'I' and 'Love' and 'You'..."<br>~The Avett Brothers, "I and Love and You"  
><em>

_Now_

"I think I'm going to go."

Jack quickly made his way out of the penthouse in order to give Karen and Grace their privacy. He knew that he could have gone upstairs, found a room to relax in while they talk it out downstairs. But the optimist in him wanted to believe that once they were finished talking, they would spend the night together. At this point, he couldn't tell the outcome, but better to be safe than sorry. He wanted to turn and give a silent bid of luck to Karen, but he couldn't see her with the red head still standing there. He waited until the door shut behind the women to make his way out of the building and to Riverside Drive.

"He was only here to see how I was doing. Well…maybe it was more out of confusion and wanting answers that he came over." Karen couldn't figure out why she was making excuses for Jack's presence. They were friends, this was her house. Why should it matter what he was doing here? Maybe it was to fill the empty space. Maybe it was an attempt to start a conversation, any conversation, because deep down she knew that if not prompted, they could go on forever without speaking. And if she had to be honest, Karen wanted desperately to simply hear the sound of Grace's voice; she didn't care what the words were.

"At least you changed out of that outfit. I couldn't stand to see you looking like that after the way I've seen you these past few months."

"You were reverting to old habits. I figured I might as well do the same."

Grace's mouth opened to a small "O" of surprise. Her instinct was to fight back, to defend herself. But there was nothing to defend but stupidly rash decisions. And she didn't want to stick up for them. "I deserve it," she said finally. "I made a mistake. I thought it was the right move when it obviously wasn't. I realized it a bit too late. For what it's worth, I'm so sorry. I don't really know how to make up for a mistake like this, and if I did know, I'd be doing it now. I just wanted to tell you that I left Leo tonight. I'm staying at Will's again. I thought it would be better to tell you in person instead of on the phone." The red head tried to gauge the dark haired woman's thoughts, but Karen had on her poker face. After a moment, Grace murmured, "That's it," and started to walk towards the door.

"Wait." Grace felt Karen's touch on her arm and froze in her tracks, not because there was any aggression in the dark haired woman's action, but because of the sheer shock of feeling Karen's gentle and soft hand on her skin once again, when she thought she would never feel it in this way ever again. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes already, and knew she couldn't turn to face Karen without looking an uncontrollable wreck. She let her hand slide from the doorknob and fall to her side, waiting for the dark haired woman's voice to come through again. "How did he take it?" Karen finally asked.

"I don't know," Grace said softly. "He was asleep when I left. I wrote him a note, put it in a place where I knew he'd see it in the morning. I just couldn't say it to his face. I knew I had wasted our time; I didn't need him saying it to my face. I didn't want to look at him as I told him I didn't love him anymore. Because I know that I don't. I kept looking at him tonight—all day, in fact—wishing with everything in my being that he were you. Not that it would do any good now. I know I blew it. But you should know that I finally came to my senses."

"Will you at least come sit down with me?" Grace turned to face Karen, and realized how out of place they seemed here. It made her miss home, not in the state it was now, but as it was a week ago, two weeks ago, that day Karen first moved in. The red head watched as Karen made her way to the sofa before following her lead. Countless times they have made this walk—not here, but on Riverside, at the Chelsea coffeehouse, in the Brooklyn dive bars. The air felt different those times. Now she couldn't gauge it.

"I didn't mean for you to have to sit through all of that," the red head murmured after a moment of silence. "How did you know that I was calling that dinner? After everything, I didn't think it would have been right for me to invite you; that's the only reason why I didn't."

"I know, honey. I know. Will told me about it. He called me today, I guess to check up on me. I don't know what made me tell him that I would be there. Maybe I just wanted to see it for myself. I wanted to see if you were happy with your decision."

"Well, I wasn't." Grace looked at her hands, felt the desire in them to slide over to Karen's fingers and get caught in a tangle of skin. She realized then that if this was truly the end for them, she wouldn't be able to handle it. She knew every curve of the dark haired woman's body, she knew her secrets, she knew what made her genuinely smile and what she wanted most out of life. She knew Karen Walker inside and out. And to be denied what she truly knew was something she could not accept. "I wanted you to say something. I know that's so selfish, but it's true. I wanted you to tell me how stupid it was that I was playing house with someone I didn't even want anymore. And I knew deep down I didn't want him. It was more out of respect for the marriage, not the person I was married to. I can't believe I made that mistake." She shifted her gaze at Karen, knowing that she wouldn't be able to meet those hazel eyes. The dark haired woman's stare was straight ahead at nothing in particular. Grace wished with all of her being that she could break through it. "I hate that I know what it's like to be without you. I hate that I let you down."

"You could never let me down." It was quiet, almost inaudible, but Grace knew it was there. Still staring blankly across the room, Karen continued. "When I thought that you would stay with him, I didn't want to miss you. And I know it's only been a short time. But the fact that I couldn't even go a day without wanting to hold you in my arms…I don't know if it makes me weak, or it makes you irresistible. Maybe it's a little of both." Finally, she turned her gaze to the red head, silent tears in her eyes. "I love you more than I've loved anyone. I only want you to be happy. And if it's not with me…"

Grace couldn't take it anymore. In one fell swoop, she cut Karen off mid-sentence—"You make me happy. You make me so happy"—and pressed her lips against the dark haired woman's. She pulled away abruptly, realizing what she had done. "I…I'm sorry."

"No." It gave the red head chills, that word. Grace closed her eyes, waited for Karen to speak. "No apologies. Not now. Not again." Grace opened her eyes to see Karen smiling through the tears that had spilled over. "Stay with me tonight. Just stay with me."

The red head nodded as she was pulled into Karen's arms. And then, she felt it in her throat, working its way to her lips one word at a time. She loved the way it tasted. And she knew that once it came out, it would overflow from then on. She took a breath. "I," she whispered, "love…you."

Everything led to Karen. Everything would always lead to Karen. And Grace wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

><p>In the morning, we will leave all of this behind us.<p>

You will come back home with me, where you are wanted, where you are needed. Where it's warm. Where we can lay out on the terrace with a bottle of wine and Billie Holiday playing on the stereo, and watch as the sun sets over Manhattan. Where we no longer have the obstacles that once plagued us. Where the Chelsea coffeehouse is only a short subway ride away. Where we can finally be what we've always wanted to be.

I knocked on your door tonight terrified that you would shut it in my face once you found out who was on the other side. I was terrified that I had lost you for good. I'm too old to keep playing like I had been; I'm not a teenager anymore. I can't flit from person to person without repercussions, and I can't fool around with the emotions of others. But do you know the one thing that gave me an ounce of hope that you and I still had a chance? You tried your damnedest not to make me feel like I was a horrible person when you left me on the sands of Coney Island. You knew I was confused. You knew I wasn't out to hurt you. I could feel your love even when you told me to go to Leo, to figure things out. It made me think that maybe, just maybe, I could come back to you when I realize that I never should have left in the first place. And now that we're here, there is no going back. Because it's you. It is always you.

You are home. You are safety. You are everything.

Right now, you have your arms around me in your Park Avenue bed, your skin gently against mine. It is fitting that we ended up where I first felt your warmth, where I first had that feeling that we were meant for something greater than we had back then. If I could go back in time, I would have been firmer in my refusals of Leo. I never would have put you through that wedding; I never would have put me through that wedding. We wouldn't have lost so much time with each other. Because now that I look back on it, something was always missing with Leo. I kept telling myself that this was what I wanted, because I had to lose your love in order to get it; the sacrifice was so big, that I was determined to make it worth it. There was just one thing, one major thing that would never go away, that would always be the rift in my marriage, no matter how much I tried not to acknowledge it. He was not you, and he never would be you.

All is right now. All is well. You made me promise not to utter any more apologies. But I will do everything in my power to make up for lost time, everything in my power to take away any pain, because you don't deserve to feel it, any of it. I will do everything in my power to make sure you know how much I love you.

I love you, Karen. God, it feels so good to say. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

They are three simple words. They used to be impossible. They used to stick in my throat, because I would try to say them to someone who didn't deserve them. But now that I'm in your arms for good, moving closer to your body, they're the only words I know.


End file.
